The Wheel of the Year
by Nymue
Summary: [COMPLETE] S5 serial that revolves around all the characters with an emphasis on Buffy and takes place during or around the eight Sabbats and explores how the characters relate to their reality at a given point in time.
1. Lughnasa Fire

_Winter, Spring, Summer, Autumn -- birth, growth, fading, death -- the Wheel turns, on and on. Ideas are born; projects are consummated; plans prove impractical and die. We fall in love; we suffer loss; we consummate relationships; we give birth; we grow old; we decay.   
  
The Sabbats are the eight points at which we connect the inner and the outer cycles: the interstices where the seasonal, the celestial, the communal, the creative and the personal all meet. As we enact each drama in its own time, we transform ourselves. We are renewed; we are reborn even as we decay and die. We are not separate from each other, from the broader world around us; we are one with the Goddess ... as the season changes, we arouse the power from within, the power to heal, the power to change our society, the power to renew the earth ...   
  
-- "The Sabbats," from The Spiral Dance by Starhawk _  
  
  
  
The Wheel of the Year   
  
... is a serial that works with Buffy S5 (and Angel S2 to a lesser extent) events and revolves around all the characters, not merely one specific pairing (although there is an emphasis on Buffy and there are undertones and overtones that are fairly consistent, such as W/T, X/A, B/A and B/R). These stories explore romantic, sexual, antagonistic, familial and platonic relationships, as well as where the lines between them blur. Each one takes place during or around the eight Sabbats and explores how the characters relate to their reality at a given point in time. These stories have been crafted to fit into the show's canon rather than existing in an alternate universe; in other words, everything herein could have happened off screen. This begins after Season 4 of BtVS and Season 1 of Angel. Since character pairing and rating will vary from story to story, please be sure to watch the content warnings. Most are PG13, but a couple hover around a hard R.

LUGHNASA FIRE

RATED: Hard R: Willow/Tara/Buffy/Anya 

DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Not yours. They belong to Joss, the WB, and FOX. This is a not-for-profit fanfiction. No infringement is intended. 

NOTE: Pagan rituals and femslash ahead. Though this is about the four women, there are definitely other relationships that play important roles, including mentions of W/T, B/A, B/F, B/R and X/Anya. See end for more notes. 

*** 

Love is awake in me whatever the season.   
Love is a north wind, cold and sharp.   
Love is a night on fire with lightning.   
Love is shameless, violent, heart-rending.   
Love is the madness sent by the goddess. 

-- Sicilian Greek poet Ibykos, sixth century BCE 

*** 

Two women lay curled together in bed, replete with satisfaction after a night of love and magick making. The blonde trailed her fingers over the redhead's flat stomach, inching slowly toward the curls that shielded her lover's most intimate and sensitive flesh. Willow gave a soft whimper and turned to face the other woman, green eyes meeting blue in acknowledgment of mutual passion.

They stayed still, content merely to gaze into each other's eyes and searching out the many hues and facets that were contained therein. Time slipped past, although to the lovers it seemed to have stopped; eventually, though, the blonde rolled onto her back and broke the spell.

Tara sighed softly. "Did you a-ask them?"

"Anya said she'd come," Willow answered idly, more content to run her fingers through her girlfriend's silky blonde strands than talk at the moment.

Her lover nudged her. "What about Buffy?"

Willow's motions ceased and an unnatural silence settled over the room. Tara shivered. "Willow?"

"I couldn't ask," came the anguished whisper in reply.

"Why?"

Willow raised up to look at Tara, tears in her eyes. "She says she's okay with it now and after the First Slayer thing I believe her, but … "

Tara frowned. "What's wrong, Willow?"

The redhead's forehead creased and an expression of confusion settled on her features. "Ever since the spell we can feel each other every now and then, you know, little things, kinda like a weird sense of just knowing … "

I know, Tara thought. I wish I could explain.

"And when I talk about us -- me and you -- I get this little vibe from her that I don't understand, and I'm afraid she's just trying to put on a good face and that she's really not okay with us …" Willow babbled, all her feelings coming out.

"Maybe you remind her of what s-she doesn't have right now," Tara suggested.

Willow went silent for a moment and her eyes widened seconds later as realization crashed through. "Oh, Goddess, how could I be so blind! No Angel, no Riley … Buffy must be so lonely right now. I have you, Xander has Anya, and Olivia's in town … it must hurt her to hear how happy we all are. I'm a sucky friend!"

"N-no," Tara countered. "B-buffy's going through a hard time … you can't help her i-if you're not happy."

"I'll ask her today," Willow decided. "We're having lunch in the park to, you know, stay close and not drift apart."

Tara nodded.

Willow kissed the blonde suddenly, a kiss full of love and passion but tinged with a little fear. Sweet lips brushed across sweet lips and tongues explored before happily entwining as passion once more rose between them. As a wave of pleasure crested Willow cried out her love, then sank into the arms of her lover as velvet darkness descended once.

As she gazed down at the woman in her arms, a single tear slid down Tara's cheek. "I know you love me now … but will you love when you know the truth?" she whispered.

Already fast asleep, Willow smiled.

***

"So you'll come?"

Buffy wiggled her toes as the pale pink polish dried. "Yeah, I'll come … I told you I would."

"I know," Willow said as she tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "But thought I'd make sure, cause, you know … we sorta celebrate the Great Rite at the end … okay, it's not really the Great Rite, but it's our take on it and … and I know you handle the me and Tara thing better now … "

"Will, you're babbling."

Willow looked abashed. "Sorry, but I just wanted to be sure … "

Buffy sighed and looked out across the sunlit park. "It looks so different by day, you know?"

"Yeah, it does, but … "

"Will, it's okay. I understand." Buffy sat up and faced her best friend, hazel eyes meeting green. "I know I was a little freaked at first, but it was just … everything had been changing and I had latched onto something stable. That turned out to be Riley -- and, to an extent, that was a mistake."

"Buffy," Willow started.

"No, let me say this. I've been thinking a lot this summer and I've realized a few things ... or re-realized some stuff," she said sheepishly. "I latched onto Riley and concentrated so much on him, on something that needed me, that really wanted me, that made me feel special, important and needed … and the rest of the world passed me by. You guys were having lives and problems, but I was SO scared of loosing what little control I still had over my life that I focused all -- or almost all -- my attention on Riley. And that was wrong."

"Are you saying you and Riley are wrong?"

Buffy frowned. "Sort of. He worked for a while, Will. He's nice and kind, but in the end we don't know each other. I think I was using him. Correction, I WAS using him, if only to try and forget."

"About Angel?" Willow questioned tentatively.

"Yeah. And slaying, too, I guess -- at least for a little while, anyway. But deep down I've known it would never work. That's why I was so focused on him … why I'm still focused on him. If he's all I think about, I can ignore what I know … Faith once told me I didn't know what it felt like to be out of control, but she was wrong."

Willow frowned, but the Slayer continued. "I feel out of control more than anyone knows, Will, and if I focus on Riley … I don't feel so lost and *that* feels good. But it's wrong to do that to him, to us. I told Angel that we don't fit in each other's worlds anymore … but neither do me and Riley. In the end I know he thinks this will be over, but I know it won't end 'til I'm dead-dead. Maybe he can try and pitch in without the fancy equipment, but eventually he'll want more. And despite all Angel's waxing poetic on the normal life I deserve … I'll never have it.

"Ever," Buffy finished. "I know that now. Even if I live to a ripe old age, there'll always be a price on my head."

"Buffy, that doesn't mean you can't have a life! You can! If anyone can do it, I know you will," Willow protested.

Buffy smiled. "I'm not saying I can't have a life, Will -- far from it. I've spent years proving that I CAN have a life outside slaying. It just won't be a normal life … and that means that whoever my partner is, he or she has to understand that it'll never be over."

"Riley's nice," she continued after a brief pause. "And he's nice right now -- but that's all. That's who he is, really: Mr. Right Now. He's not the sort of person who'll be a Slayer's lifemate; he's the little house in Iowa with 2.2 kids and a dog. And that will never be me. I just hate that it took five months, a nearly broken friendship, Faith and the threat of world destruction for me to see the truth."

Willow looked pensive, sorting through her best friend's words and reluctantly seeing the truth therein. Eventually she nodded, showing Buffy that she understood. Until …

"Wait a minute! He OR she?"

Buffy looked up at Willow from under her lashes. "Uh huh. What I was trying to say was, if hadn't been so upset over my denial, the Riley situation, my anger at Angel and Faith … I would've taken it better. And I wouldn't have been so surprised, either."

Surprise was etched on the redhead's face. "Really? I mean, how … "

"Remember your evil, vampy twin?"

Willow nodded.

"Angel told a little fib to make you feel better."

"You know," Willow mused. "I've wondered about her -- me, her, me -- a lot for the past few months. For the last year, really, even when I was with Oz. Maybe even more after we started doing more than exchanging smoochies in the van. She didn't care about sex … as long as she was having sex. It made me wonder if it was a vamp thing or a Willow thing."

"Guess that answers that," Buffy said.

"I suppose," Willow answered idly. "But still -- he or she, Buffy?"

Buffy took a deep breath. "Faith."

"Faith," Willow echoed. "Faith. Faith! Skanky, evil, stealing your body and sleeping with your boyfriend FAITH!?"

Buffy grimaced. "Yeah, Will, Faith. Our Faith, who is currently in jail."

"Bu-bu-but, when? Where? WHY?"

"It was early last year, back before she defected and joined the Mayor," Buffy told her. "We had been patrolling, and we took out a nest … afterwards, well, you know about Faith's hungry and horny thing … we went out for a bite to eat, then back to her place to talk … and we ended up doing more than talk. I felt strange after, I mean, I was still with Angel and I felt bad … she said it didn't mean anything, but it wasn't too long after that night that she accidentally killed … "

"Oh," Willow responded. "Oh, Buffy, you don't think --"

"I don't know," she whispered. "Could that have been part of it? I just know that afterwards I was never completely comfortable with my relationship with her. I loved Angel, I still love Angel, and I didn't know where she fit into that equation. Then she tried to seduce Angel, then she went bad, and after that it didn't seem to matter."

"No, Buffy, no … "

"But we don't know, Will. We just don't know"

Buffy lapsed into silence after that and Willow was loath to break the stillness. Both watched as the sunlight filtered through the trees and made shadows on the grass, listened as birds chirped and children played, and shivered as a sudden breeze raised gooseflesh on their bare arms.

"So you really don't mind? Even though I invited Anya, too?"

"No, Will, I don't mind. I'll be there."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Kay."

***

Four nude young women stood awkwardly around a low fire in a dark clearing, each one seemingly unwilling to be the one to break the proverbial ice. Buffy glanced around, carefully studying the area the two Witches had chosen for possible weak spots. Willow said they had cast wards for protection, but this was still Sunnydale after dark -- anything was possible.

"It'll be okay," the redhead assured the Slayer.

Buffy nodded and exhaled. "I know, Will. It's just a Slayer thing, I guess."

"If something does come kill us, that means I can never have sex with Xander again," Anya commented. "Which would be very bad, because he does the most wonderful things with his --"

"Uh, that's okay, Anya, we don't need to know. As long as you're happy," Buffy assured her.

Anya shrugged. "Your loss."

With that the tense atmosphere lifted a bit and each one moved to one side of the fire taking up positions as they prepared to cast the circle. Buffy nervously lifted a cup of blessed water and sprinkled some on the ground as she said, "Welcome our minds to your essence, Air."

She passed the cup to Anya, who repeated her actions. "Welcome our hearts to your essence, Fire."

Willow next received the water and droplets flew from her fingertips as she said, "Welcome our lives to your essence, Water."

At last the cup passed to Tara. "Welcome our bodies to your essence, Earth," she intoned. After a moment she placed the now empty cup on the ground, then stood and flung out her arms. "The circle is cast. We are between the worlds, beyond the bounds of time, where night and day, birth and death, joy and sorrow, meet as one."

Tara lifted a basket full of bread, selecting a loaf. "We g-gather tonight to celebrate the wake of Lugh, the s-sun king who dies with the waning year."

She passed the basket to Buffy, who also selected a loaf. The Slayer took a deep breath, then continued with the words she had learned in preparation for this night. "We stand now between hope and fear, in the time of waiting. In the fields, the grain is ripe but not yet harvested. We have worked hard to bring many things to fruition, but the rewards are not yet certain."

Next came Anya, who copied the others. "Now the Mother becomes the Reaper, the Implacable One who feeds on life that new life may grow. Light diminishes, the days shorten, summer passes."

Willow lifted the last loaf and set the basket on the ground. "We gather to turn the Wheel, knowing that to harvest we must sacrifice, and warmth and life must pass into winter."

The blonde Witch then turned to Buffy. "What do you fear?"

The Slayer closed her eyes and when she opened them she met the Witch's eyes and responded, "Being unloved, unneeded, being alone."

The blonde nodded. "Alone and unloved," she chanted. Buffy's voice cracked as she joined the chant, but she persevered. "Alone and unloved, alone and unloved … "

As their voices dwindled, Tara turned to Anya, once more posing the question. "What do you fear?"

Anya's response was immediate. "Being abandoned."

Tara nodded. "Rejection," she chanted, Anya joining her. "Abandoned, abandoned, abandoned."

By the time Tara moved to Willow tears were sliding freely down both the faces of the Slayer and Anya, who finally realized just how deeply the past two years had traumatized the Chosen One. Both were lost in thoughts and feelings, and nearly missed Willow and Tara chanting, "Rejection, rejection … "

Willow wiped at her tears and faced Tara, who now stood in her original place. "What do you fear?" she questioned softly.

Tara blinked. "Loss," she answered just as softly.

"Loss," Willow repeated.

"Loss," Tara confirmed. "Loss, loss, loss … "

Once the chant was silenced and Willow had stepped back, Tara lifted her loaf. "In this fire, may it pass from me and mine! May it pass, may it pass, may it pass on the outflowing tide and burn with the red sun. As the year dies and fades, as everything fades, as everything passes … all fades away."

With that she tossed the loaf into the fire, the others following suit. As they gazed into the fire they watched as the flames devoured the bread, each hoping and praying that their fears would be so destroyed. No one spoke, but no words were needed. Each heart was full of fears that were slowly draining away, slipping beyond the pale, leaving only a place for new hopes and dreams.

As they came back to themselves, Tara once more stood forward, this time with a plate of fresh berries. Each one chose a berry as Tara asked, "What do you hope to harvest?"

Their responses formed a chant. "Acceptance, true love, trust, unconditional love, acceptance, true love, trust, unconditional love … "

The words formed a type of magick that Buffy had never felt outside Angel's arms, and she nearly wept at the beauty of it. As the magick pulsed each one was pulled into her own thoughts, reaching for the elusive piece of life that seemed just out of reach. So intent were they, that the sudden cresting of the magick sent a jolt through each one. Heads jerked up and eyes widened as the feelings evened out, but soon smiles split the night as they relaxed.

Tara lifted a strawberry to her mouth, its juices sliding down her jaw as her teeth broke the skin. "Eat of the life that ever dies and is reborn."

Buffy and Anya eagerly popped the fruit into their mouths as each relished the sweet taste after the intensity of the magick, but Willow could only stare at her lover. She wanted to lick the juice from Tara's chin and it was a few minutes before she realized that she was the only one who had yet to feast. Grinning unrepentantly, she brought the berry to her lips, her tongue darting out to caress the fruit before she slowly sucked the ripe berry into her mouth.

Tara gave Willow a Look as she tossed a fine dust on the fire, but the redhead just smiled. The flames tripled in seconds and burst forth, as if trying to climb towards the heavens above. "Now listen to the words of the Great Mother; She who of old was also called among men: Artemis, Astarte, Athene, Dione, Melusine, Aphrodite, Cerridwen, Dana, Arianrhod, Isis, Bride, and by many other names:"

Willow flung her arms out as the words of the Goddess poured from her lips. "Whenever you have need of anything, once in the month, and better it be when the moon is full, then shall ye assemble in some secret place and adore the spirit of me, who am Queen of all the Wise. There shall ye assemble, ye who are fain to learn all sorcery, yet have not won its deepest secrets; to these will I teach things that are yet unknown. And ye shall be free from slavery; and as a sign that ye be really free, ye shall be naked in your rites; and ye shall dance, sing, feast, make music and love, all in my praise. For mine is the ecstasy of the spirit, and mine also is joy on earth; for my law is love unto all beings. Keep pure your highest ideal; strive ever towards it; let naught stop you or turn you aside. For mine is the secret door which opens upon the Land of Youth, and mine is the cup of the wine of life, and the Cauldron of Cerridwen, which is the Holy Grail of immortality. I am the gracious Goddess, who gives the gift of joy unto the heart of man. Upon earth, I give the knowledge of the spirit eternal; and beyond death, I give peace, and freedom, and reunion with those who have gone before. Nor do I demand sacrifice; for behold, I am the Mother of all living, and my love is poured out upon the earth."

Tara tossed more dust on the fire and filled another chalice with wine as she spoke once more. "Hear ye the words of the Star Goddess; she in the dust of whose feet are the hosts of heaven, and whose body encircles the universe:"  


Willow straightened her back. "I, who am the beauty of the green earth and the white moon among the stars and the mysteries of the waters, I call upon your soul to arise and come unto me. For I am the soul of nature that gives life to the universe. From Me all things proceed and unto Me they must return. Let my worship be in the heart that rejoices, for behold -- all acts of love and pleasure are My rituals. Let there beauty and strength, power and compassion, honor and humility, mirth and reverence within you. And you who seek to know Me, know that your yearning and seeking will avail you not, unless you know the Mystery: for if that which you seek, you find not within yourself, you will never find it without. For behold, I have been with you from the beginning, and I am that which is attained at the end of desire."

After that, all manner of words, chants, spells and songs began to tumble forth from their lips as laughter rang out through the night. Hips swayed in time to a tune only they could hear and any onlooker would have seen four women cast off their inhibitions and dance under a moonless sky. Hands clasped, arms locked and feet danced as a sweet juice passed full lips. Sweat beaded on bare skin only to fall to the ground or dissolve in the air.

Tara and Willow embraced as Buffy and Anya continued to dance, the firelight casting shadows over their bodies as they kissed. Willow shivered in desire, moaning as lust and love and magick raced through her veins. Small gasps of pleasure could be heard but neither knew from whose lips they passed … nor did it matter.

Arms raised, Buffy swayed to the songs in the air as another pair of arms wrapped around her waist. Silky hair brushed her shoulder; a soft mouth pressed kisses on her neck and she arched in the caress, careless of the suitor. Somehow her other relationships didn't matter here. Or rather, because the others were not here they could wait -- only the three women with her tonight were important just now. Her feelings for Angel, for Riley, even Faith, were secondary as she danced underneath the moonlit sky, its silvery light kissing her body as would a lover. This was different from all the others, she marveled, its intensity rivaling even what she had had with Angel in their deepest moments. Different, yes, but not at all threatening, she realized as a foamy wave of ecstasy crashed through her blood.

Even over a thousand years later the feelings were still there, Anya mused inwardly. Nothing truly ever died, she realized with a start. Over time things changed, altered, but nothing was ever destroyed. How long ago it was when she had last danced this way, when other commitments were pushed aside in favor of the worship of the Goddess. How had she strayed so far? Why had she allowed bitterness to flavor her heart against love? Anya's thoughts swirled in a cacophony of motion as she danced, thoughts of past lovers mixing with the jilted and unfaithful she had seen as a demon, finally culminating in a curious mental collage as she thought of Xander and the women with her tonight. Soon the thoughts were too much and she heeded the siren call of magick and desire, her arms slipping around another's, her mouth finding creamy skin as if it were only yesterday that she had danced for the Lady.

Soon all four were pressed together, hands caressing and stroking heated flesh, lips passing both delicate and intense kisses amongst the four. A potent music filled their ears, urging them on as they shared themselves in the wondrous and exquisite communion before the Lady, honoring her with their love and trust. Swollen flesh and sweet honey filled Tara's mouth as Willow shattered in Buffy's arms, the redhead sliding to her knees in satiation. The others followed suit, landing on the fragrant grass in a tangle of limbs.

Skin brushed skin, mouths fused together and the song in the air took on a more frantic pace as hands swept across flushed flesh. Buffy gasped as a mouth closed over her nipple and suckled like a babe, and gasps turned to moans as another mouth found her most sensitive spot. Sheer, unadulterated ecstasy flooded her blood in a cycle that had no beginning and no end. And even as she felt the haze recede she could feel the slick skin of another under her fingers as Anya's cry of ecstasy rang out, and she tasted a woman's innermost juices as another scream pierced the night.

The staccato rhythm had reached its zenith with their cries.

Then there was silence.

But it was not a silence of absolute proportions, for the sounds of hearts still beat against the breast of exhausted dancers. Breaths became more even and the fire crackled and the insects buzzed in the night air.

And in the distance, they could hear the song begin once more …

***

As Aurora's rosy fingers glided across the sky bringing the dawn, four young women reluctantly untangled their limbs and started searching for various articles of clothing. Unlike one-night affairs started under a haze of hormones or alcohol, there were no awkward silences among them, only jokes and light teasing as they debated on whether or not to go to breakfast.

Buffy picked a few strands of grass from her hair as she contemplated her face in the compact mirror. The woman who smiled back at her was happy, happier than Buffy had been in over a year. Looking up she studied the others and found that this camaraderie, this new intimacy, felt unmistakably right. There were no questions about why it was right, it simply was. These were her friends, her family, and they loved each other even when they were at their worst. Unbidden, the words Willow had spoken the night before trickled through her mind: " … My law is love unto all beings … all acts of love and pleasure are My rituals … "

Yes, this was right. More to the point, there were no feelings on guilt or uncertainty about what had happened. And she was okay with that.

The compact snapped shut and Buffy tossed it into her bag as she pulled on her shoes. "Well, by the time we walk back into town the Expresso Pump will be open."

Willow's eyes lit up. "Bagels and veggie cream cheese!"

Tara smiled as Willow grew excited, and she looked at the redhead with undisguised love and joy. "T-that sounds good."

"I don't know," Anya started, then stopped, cocking her head to the side for a moment. "Yes, food now is good. I'll go see Xander later; orgasms are better after eating."

Instead of cringing, Buffy laughed, and soon the four were giggling and snorting as they made their way down the slope of the hill toward town. Laughter could still be heard when they reached the road, and any early morning motorists would have been surprised to see four young women out so early … and quite chipper, for all that.

But this was California, and Sunnydale no less, so they pushed it aside and concentrated on the day to come, conveniently ignoring the strange, glittery aura that the group exuded.

END


	2. Harvest Home

TITLE: Harvest Home (1/1)

SERIES: The Wheel of the Year

AUTHOR: Nymue

EMAIL: josette@aol.com

RATED: PG

DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Not yours. They belong to Joss, the WB, and FOX. This is a not-for-profit fanfiction. No infringement is intended. 

SUMMARY: As the autumnal solstice and the celebration of Mabon approaches, various characters take time to connect with others and reflect on what they have reaped … or not. This is not a story in the full sense, but rather a series of glimpses at the relationships between certain characters.

SPOILERS: Up through "The Replacement" and "Are You Now Or Have You Ever Been."

NOTE: Incantation by Starhawk, from "The Spiral Dance." 

FEEDBACK: Is much appreciated.

***

The rituals of Demeter

and the terrifying nights

of the goddess Hecate

are among the mysteries

I have experienced.

-- Sabina, Roman priestess 

***

"Am I to believe that everyone will be attending?" Giles asked, turning to straighten up the back room after Buffy's training session.

"No," the Slayer said slowly.

"Oh?"

Buffy shoved the last of the mats into the closet and leaned against the wall, looking at her mentor who was now studying her more intently. As soon as he finished replacing the crystals in their case, he gestured to the door and asked, "Tea?"

She nodded and followed. A companionable silence reigned as the two went through the motions of the tea ritual, years of familiarity negating the immediate need for speech. Buffy rummaged through the cabinet of the small kitchenette looking for the sugar, her mind focused on setting the plates and cups on the small table rather than on the conversation to come. It wasn't a form of denial like the one she had spent nearly a year indulging in, she realized, but a way of straightening and calming her mind. Hard at times, yes, but worth the hassle for the results it yielded.

"Mom won't be coming," Buffy said as they were seated. "Not that it comes as any big surprise, but she won't let Dawn come, either."

Giles looked up from spreading the jam on his scones. "Any particular reason?"

Buffy shrugged. "She's still a little wigged about Willow and Tara. Plus Dawn told her a few days ago that she wanted to learn what, exactly, it was that they did together and … "

"Your mother wasn't comfortable," Giles finished.

"Uh huh," she agreed, her mouth too full to form words. 

Giles studied his Slayer carefully. She was more like his daughter than any of the others ever could have been, and he loved her dearly. And he was even more proud of her than he had ever been when she told him that she wanted him to be her Watcher once more, that she wanted to learn more about who and what she was. There was a new sparkle in her eyes, a new confidence that was beginning to emerge in her that had nothing to do with anything or anyone but Buffy. Privately, he wondered how long it would be before they entered uncharted territory, for as she continued to train her abilities were growing far more rapidly than any of the texts indicated.

"And Riley?"

Buffy shrugged again. "He says he's busy that night."

"But?" Giles prodded.

"He's not too comfortable with magick and Witchcraft, either, so it doesn't matter," she answered.

Giles pursed his lips and wondered how best to proceed. Her tone did not even indicate the slightest trace that she was bothered by the boy's actions, but still. "Does that upset you, Buffy?"

"No," she said simply.

"Why not?"

She sat for a moment, cup raised halfway to her mouth. Slowly she pressed the porcelain to her lips, sipping the hot liquid as she wondered how much of her conversation with Willow she would need to repeat. Finally, she decided on simplicity.

"I don't love him," she stated.

Giles nodded, understanding flowing freely across his features. Watching the couple together and apart over the last several months, he had suspected as much. Nevertheless, before he could voice his opinions on the subject, their eyes met and she spoke again.

"And he doesn't understand."

Once more, no explanation was necessary. "Ah."

His Slayer gave him a small, sad smile. "I don't think it will last much longer, Giles. It can't; if it does it will hurt us both that much more."

"When will you tell him?"

Her eyes glazed over a bit, as if she seemed to be looking far beyond the moment. "Soon, I think. I can't do this much longer, but I don't want to hurt him … "

"It *will* hurt him, Buffy. Surely you know that."

She nodded. "But if I keep waiting it'll hurt even more."

Giles murmured his acquiescence and they returned to their tea, discussing more mundane matters such as school and the magic shop. Eventually though, their repast came to an end and they returned to the original topic as they rinsed out the dishes and stored the leftovers. 

"So, will you come?"

Giles looked over at his Slayer and smiled. "Of course."

Her answering smile was the brightest he'd seen in weeks.

***

"What?"

Xander stood in the middle of his new apartment, his mouth open in astonishment. And while Anya occasionally liked to surprise her Xander, this was not the reaction she had expected. Or wanted.

"You heard me."

Xander's mouth snapped shut and his eyes widened again, which she thought was adorable. "Tell me again," he finally responded.

"I want you to come to a Solstice Circle that Willow and Tara are holding," Anya stated simply. "Why are you taking so long to decide? It's a very simple question -- you'll either come, or you won't."

Once more, Xander had the unique feeling of being flummoxed by his girlfriend … who was so much more than that. As he stared at her, he got the sense that this was something she really wanted and part of him simply capitulated in that instant. However, another part (my twinself? he wondered) had more to say.

"Isn't, you know, just for Wiccans?" he asked.

Anya shook her head. "As long as you don't piss off the deities in question, anybody can attend."

Another thought wiggled in his head. "Isn't it … I mean, don't you, you know, have sexattheend?"

The former demon smiled at the way he ran the words together although she still didn't understand this taboo about sex. Well, talking about sex. If you had the parts and the parts worked, you could have sex. And sex was nice. Why not talk about it? "Not always."

"Oh." Xander looked relieved, before doubt crossed his mind again. "But … "

"Xander," she said impatiently. "I told you anyone could come. Buffy went last time and she's coming again … and besides, we don't always have sex."

At that, images materialized in his brain that he knew never should have, but did nonetheless. Flashes of Buffy and Anya and Willow … 

"And Giles is coming, too," she added.

The images disappeared as if doused with ice water. Xander shook his head and started to open his mouth, but Anya beat him to put it.

"Well?" she demanded.

"Okay, I'll come."

***

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the oversized hall monitor."

Riley clenched his fists as he heard the distinctive mocking tones of a British born vampire, and he turned to find the platinum blond leaning against the wall and regarding him closely, smoking an ever present cigarette. Blue eyes danced in delight as the vampire took in the former commando's displeasure, savoring the difference it made in the boy's blood. He might not be able to hurt anything living being physically, Spike reflected, but inflicting emotional pain and strife was the next best thing.

For now.

"What do you want?" Riley grated, in no mood to take any kind of shit from the only hostile to escape the Initiative without outside assistance. He would stake the annoying bastard now, but he knew that, deep down, Buffy would be angry that he made that decision after she allowed Spike to live. Why she wanted him alive -- undead, alive, whatever -- was beyond him. Unless, he thought, she wants him around because he's …

"Why, just to look after your safety," Spike replied, his voice dripping with sarcastic innocence.

"Well, thanks but no thanks," Riley said and turned to leave.

Spike, however, had other plans. "So, why aren't you over on the hill with the Slayer and the others, celebrating this lovely night?"

Riley tensed. "I have better things to do."

A slow, malicious smile curved the vampire's lips. "Can't take it? The magick, I mean, and the fact that the Slayer's becoming more and more involved in her Calling."

Riley did an about-face. "I don't mind," he told the vampire, desperately willing himself to believe the words.

Spike laughed in his face. "Oh, but you *do* mind, that's the problem. How does it make you feel to know that magick isn't the only thing that they do in those Circles of theirs?"

The taller man took a deep breath to steady his nerves, reminding himself that with the implant the vampire could do no real harm, and that he was simply fishing for a response, pushing buttons and hoping to make someone else miserable. With this in mind, he ignored Spike and started to walk away but was stopped by the vampire's next words.

"She doesn't love you."

Stopping in his tracks, Riley surprised them both. "I know."

Spike raised an eyebrow. "There's knowing, and then there's knowing. Do you know that although she'll do her duty as a good little Slayer and protect you, that she won't lay down her life for you *just* because the two of you are shagging?"

Pain nearly blinded Riley in that instant, but it was a pain he had been feeling for months, ever since that night the past spring … 

"Yes," he whispered, to Spike as much as to himself.

"Good," Spike smirked. "Well, now that I've done my duty, I'm off. Tell the Slayer I hate her for me, will you?"

***

"You've seemed a bit … off, lately."

Angel looked up to see Wesley standing beside him, eyebrows raised in a discreet enquiry. Yet another thing he realized that he liked about the Englishman. Wesley might inquire, but he rarely forced the issue unless necessary; the observation was an invitation to talk but not a direct question.

"I haven't been sleeping well," he responded. 

Wesley considered him for a moment, then nodded. "People do tend to sleep longer when their rest is … restless."

Angel bit back the impulse to say that he was not 'people.' "Yeah."

"If you're sure," Wesley said.

"I'll be fine," Angel smiled. "Was there anything else?"

Wesley shook his head. "No, just pondering the occasion."

Angel looked out and joined Wesley in silent contemplation. Yet another solstice, this one celebrating the waning year as day and night equalized. His thoughts turned inward, and Angel wondered about his own dual nature; he, too, was a balance of dark and light and so felt a special connection with the day. But it's only balanced for now, he mused, for tomorrow begins the long descent into the darkness of winter. Hopefully it was not a foreshadowing of his life.

Next to him, Wesley was thinking the same thing.

***

Two brunettes studied each other through a pane of glass. Both were slim and curvy in all the right places and both were paler than the average Californian, but the similarities -- the obvious ones -- ended there. If one looked closer, though, one might see a special fire burning in their eyes as they faced not only each other, but the trials brought by each new day.

The road to redemption is full of thorns.

A hand, slim and elegant, with a nice manicure reached for a phone and lifted it to her ear. Across the glass her companion did the same.

"I can't forgive you," she stated plainly. "Not yet."

The other swallowed. "That's five by five with me … I don't think I deserve it."

"You don't."

"I know."

"But Angel thinks you do, and he wants to help."

"He's been there … that makes it easier, I guess, for him to understand."

"He might, but we don't."

"But … one day?"

The manicured brunette nodded agreement. "One day."

"And the righteous shall walk a thorny path … "

"We all have something to atone for, something to make better," Cordelia whispered.

Faith nodded. "So, what's new with the business? You guys ever find a new office?"

***

In a darkened office with a view of the city, two figures stood looking out over the unsuspecting, mostly uncaring populace.

"My boy's out there," the blonde whispered.

The taller man glanced at her. "We'll finish this soon enough."

"But not before I have my revenge."

"No," the man agreed as her hands slid around his waist and under his shirt. "Not until we have revenge … "

***

On the top of hill in Sunnydale, the town that sits on the Hellmouth, six people formed a circle around a blazing fire. Her head cast back, the voice of a redhead rang out. 

"This is the time of the harvest … "

In a deserted gym, a tall blond man furiously plays a solitary game of basketball, desperate to drown out the pain -- real and figurative -- emanating from his heart.

"Of thanksgiving and joy … "

In a crypt, a vampire paces and dreads the dreams he knows will surely come. Resolved, he slams his fist against the wall as he vows to do whatever he must to regain the sanity he feels slowly slipping away.

"Now day and night are equal, in perfect balance … "

In Los Angeles, the city of lost angels, a lone vampire stands on a roof and contemplates his existence. From well below him, a former Watcher lights a candle of protection as he does the same.

"We give thought to the balance and flow within our own lives … "

In a small cell, Faith closes her eyes yet again and seeks for that place deep inside, the place where the real Faith resides. Warts, insecurities and all, she feels the tears slip down her face as she once more confronts the demons within.

And in an apartment, a ghost brings a brush to his mortal roommate. Cordelia relishes the feel of the bristles on her scalp, but in the mirror's reflection her eyes are older and wiser than before and she knows that if she listens closely, she can still hear the cries of those in need. 

For his part, the ghost gazes adoringly at her, and marvels at how much she has changed.

"Life declines; the season of barrenness is on us … "

On a plush carpet two bodies writhe together in ecstasy, each needing something the other cannot truly give. Their mating is soft and sensuous as they relish the thought of a victory so close, and yet a curious sense of dread lingers all the same … 

"We give thanks for that which we have reaped and gathered. We meet to turn the Wheel and weave the cord of life that will sustain us through the dark … "

END


	3. Day of the Dead

TITLE: Day of the Dead (1/1)

SERIES: The Wheel of the Year

AUTHOR: Nymue

EMAIL: josette@aol.com

RATED: PG13

DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Not yours. They belong to Joss, the WB, and FOX. This is a not-for-profit fanfiction. No infringement is intended. 

SUMMARY: Samhain has arrived and as the characters prepare to face the winter and the New Year, some old ghosts are finally laid to rest. 

SPOILERS: Up through "No Place Like Home" and "Dear Boy."

NOTE: Incantation by Starhawk, from "The Spiral Dance." 

FEEDBACK: Is much appreciated.

***

Who is this they're burying?

Who but the shoulder I leaned on?

Who but the fire of my passion?

Who but my burning ember of loss?

Who but my darling, who but my treasure,

Who but the blood of the blood of my heart?

--- Scottish death song

Sleep, oh sleep now. Sleep, oh sleep.

Sleep against her sacred breast.

Sleep, oh sleep now. Sleep, oh sleep.

Sleep this night, let her give you rest.

--- Medieval Irish death chant

***

In many cultures around the world, its peoples celebrate their ties to the earth. Often they recognize four basic seasons and their holiest days and nights revolve around specific naturally occurring events, such as a solstice. Even when they do not, the celebrations take place during certain times of they year, usually reflecting a change in the environment or the local harvest. What is even more astounding is that hundreds of cultures over the years, thousands of miles apart, celebrate these same times.

And despite all the differences in the types of celebrations almost all believe that the end of the calendrical month of October is the time of the dead. So it was that the early morning of thirty-first of October found Buffy and Anya discussing plans for the All Hallows festivities Willow and Tara had planned. 

"It's the most important Sabbat of the cycle," Willow explained. "It's the Celtic New Year."

"The time when the veil between the worlds is the thinnest," Tara added. "The day and night when the dead may r-return to walk the earth."

Buffy looked up from the altar decorations, alarmed. "What?"

"Not in a bad way," Willow hastily assured her. "Not usually … "

"Unless you've really hurt them," Anya added, not looking up from her nails.

Willow frowned. 

"It's about respecting the dead," Tara said softly, the sadness in her voice catching Buffy's attention. "This is the time when we look back and mourn those we've lost, but we celebrate their life and remember that one day, we too will join them."

"Rebirth," Anya said suddenly.

Tara nodded. "Because death is not the end of life, but a new beginning."

Buffy sat silently, absorbing all this new information. It made sense, she realized, and it offered not only closure but hope for the future and beyond. Much of the magick she had been studying recently referred to the day (or night) of the dead but she had glossed over it in order to understand the matter at hand. Yet, to truly understand herself and everything else, Buffy knew she had to learn to understand this. Yes, the Slayer faced death with every second she lived and she had died once before, however briefly, but now that possibility seemed to loom ever closer. Whether it had to do with her mother's illness or the recent revelations about Dawn or that strange *being* she had fought, Buffy wasn't sure. Maybe it was all three.

"Let's do this," she said suddenly.

"Are you sure?" Willow asked.

Buffy nodded. "We don't have classes until after lunch, so yeah."

"And Xander's at work by now," Anya seconded. "We have plans for tonight so now is good."

Willow looked over at Tara, who smiled in agreement. The blonde Witch moved to a separate room in their apartment and gestured for the others to follow; once through the door they found the lovers' magick room transformed. A large space had been cleared in the center of the room and the four women seated themselves in a circle around a large brazier. Buffy noticed several plates, bottles and pouches lying to the side, but shook her head as images tried to form.

When the circle was cast, Willow spoke first. "This is probably the most important of the Sabbats, but it need not be the most elaborate. Many covens or groups stage elaborate rituals full of pageantry for the occasion, but since this is just us … "

"We d-decided simple was better," Tara finished.

"Besides," Willow grinned sheepishly. "Tara and I are going to the big Samhain festival tonight."

Buffy nodded, her eyes stinging slightly as Tara whispered a few words while sprinkling a handful of crushed leaves and powder over the brazier. Tara caught the response and gestured to the pile, saying, "It's a m-mixture of wormwood, bay leaves, frankincense, skullcap, s-sandalwood, saffron and cinnamon."

"This is the time when the veil that divides the worlds is at its thinnest," Willow told them as she poured mugwort tea into mugs that were passed around the circle. "This is the New Year in the year's death, when the gates of life and death are opened and the dead walk."

As Buffy sipped the tea she noticed the images she had earlier pushed aside become more insistent, and she was not a little astonished when the shadows began to detach themselves from the walls and form shapes. In fact, she nearly missed Willow's next words.

"To the living is revealed the Mystery: that every ending is but a new beginning."

Buffy giggled softly as the shapes played a mischievous game of tag with one another, while still others pantomimed to her. She felt relaxed now, at ease with what she knew were surely spirits that were attracted to the magick in the room. Giles would, no doubt, say they were also attracted to the strong life-force that she and the Witches and the former demon had in spades and that the magick, while nice, was merely the icing on the cake. 

She was so caught up in the drama being played out on the walls that she missed Tara's words completely. "We meet in time out of time … "

The mirth of the spirits seemed to dwindle and sadness began to permeate the air. Buffy frowned and leaned forward, trying desperately to see what the others were seeing.

"Here and there … "

The new shape coalesced from the shadows into a vague figure and Buffy squinted to see. As if sensing her inability the specter came closer to the edge of the circle, putting it directly in Buffy's line of sight.

"Everywhere and nowhere … "

An anguished cry was wrenched from the Slayer's throat as the ghostly image fully materialized. Pain burbled up from where it had been tightly concealed for years and the sheer agony intensified when the apparition was joined by another. This time Buffy moaned, her grief pouring from her as if it were a fount of water. The two beings gave her what were surely sad smiles; they missed the living, but death was not that horrible, they seemed to say. Only the living made death unbearable.

However, Buffy had barely grasped the silent message when the shapes began to drift away or dissipate back into the shadows and she felt like she was being wrenched away from a serene peacefulness when awareness was restored. As the Slayer came fully out of her trance, she found that her face was wet with tears and that her breathing was ragged and uneven, a testament to her grief. 

Looking around she was unsurprised to see various stages of pain and anguish on the faces of her friends. Anya looked very disturbed; Tara appeared upset, her calm aura upset by whatever she had witnessed; and Willow's face was also streaked with tears, her eyes luminescent with unrepressed grief. 

"I saw Jesse," she whispered helplessly.

Buffy crawled across the circle, her leg barely missing the brazier, and pulled her best friend into a strong embrace before she had even realized her intentions. Some of the Slayer's deepest instincts had kicked in when she saw a part of her family in pain and Buffy knew that if she couldn't fix the problem at least she could help another way. The redhead and the Slayer sobbed into one another's shoulders and Tara, loath to disrupt them, tentatively joined the two after only the briefest of moments. Anya, too, soon joined the others, their tears of grief mingling out of time. 

***

It was well after noon before they were able to leave the apartment; Buffy and Willow missed two of their three classes and both agreed to skip the third. The Slayer was reluctant to leave the young Witch but she knew her friend had Tara, who seemed to have mostly recovered from her experience. 

Buffy wandered the campus, oblivious to the people around her as she contemplated what had happened. Now that the initial pain was dissipating she was able to focus on the message the shades had imparted. Only the living made death unbearable, she mused. In a way it made sense, especially if the dead were still in anyway connected to this world.

"And holding on to their memory, to them, holds them here," she whispered aloud, stopping in the middle of the path.

"Holds who where?" a familiar voice inquired.

Buffy turned to find Riley behind her and gave him a sad smile. "Ghosts."

"Ghosts?" Riley asked. "Like what happened earlier this spring?"

Buffy shook her head. "No … the spirits of our loved ones, people we cared about. If we hold onto them too much, we keep them here."

"And how is this relevant?"

She hesitated. "It's Halloween."

"I know," he laughed. "Tonight all the kids will get all dressed up and go out demanding candy. Speaking of, I wanted to know if you wanted to get dressed up and go to the party, maybe leave early … "

Where once his words would have made her happy, possibly thrilled her after his recent problems, today they fell flat. Buffy took a deep breath and faced him. "No, Riley, I'm not going to the party. Actually, I need to spend tonight with Giles -- we have things we need to talk about, things we've put off for years."

"Buffy -- " he started.

"Riley," she whispered. "This is important."

"To you it must be. But Buffy, I still feel like you're slipping away, what with all this magick and extra training and studying … "

She shook her head and gave him a hug. "I'm right here," she told him. "I haven't gone anywhere … but I do need to go see how Mom is. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

He nodded. She gave him a kiss and started for home, his eyes following her until she was out of sight. 'I haven't gone anywhere,' she had said.

"But you have," he told the trees. 

"You've already left me … if you were ever really here to begin with."

***

"How's Mom?"

Dawn looked up from counter to find her sister framed in the kitchen doorway, worry etched on her face. While still not sure she wanted easily forgive Buffy for what she had done the other night, she found herself glad to see the blonde.

"Okay, I guess."

Buffy frowned. "Really? And what do you mean, you guess?"

"I just got home from school," Dawn told her. "She said she felt a little tired, but she's always tired lately … "

Tears pricked the younger girl's eyes and Buffy wrapped her arms around her, hugging her tightly. "I know, little sister," she whispered. "I'm worried, too. I'm always worried about something, especially now."

Dawn swallowed a sob but the tears still slipped from her eyes. "It's hard, you know? I never know what she'll be like from day to day, if I'll have to call you and tell you she's at the hospital again or what."

Buffy hugged her tighter. 

"Oww," Dawn said, pushing at the Slayer's arms. "I need to breathe, you know."

A small smile cracked Buffy's face and she released her sister, who promptly returned to fixing the snack she had abandoned a few scant seconds before. As she spread the peanut butter on the crackers, she noticed Buffy circling the kitchen out the corner of her eye. Shrugging her shoulders, she focused on her snack decided to let the blonde to worry for the moment. Who knows, she might come up with some sort of solution.

Her mind in a whirl, Buffy paced the length of the kitchen over and over and over again. Instinct had made her call Dawn 'little sister,' but there was something else nagging in the back of her mind. However, she once more shoved it aside to focus on the more immediate problem. 

Buffy's sudden stop made Dawn look up. The Slayer chewed her bottom lip for a moment before asking, "Do you think it would help if I moved back home?"

Dawn thought about it. While she enjoyed having Mom -- and the house -- to herself, here lately another set of hands that were available on a full time basis would be helpful. She didn't tell Buffy that the doctors had suggested a live-in nurse, simply because she knew how her sister would take the news. Live-in nurses were, often, for people whose conditions were chronic, temporarily severe or deteriorating, and she knew her sister would definitely wig. That aside, the idea had some merit, but … 

"I don't know," Dawn replied. "I mean, you'll still have class and training and patrol and time with what's-his-face -- "

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Riley."

Dawn smirked. "Whatever. Anyway, you'd still be out of the house a lot."

"But I'd be here more, especially at night and before classes."

"Yeah," Dawn sighed.

"I'll talk to Mom," Buffy decided.

"Okay," Dawn responded. "Just wait 'til tomorrow -- I think she's gone to sleep."

Buffy nodded. "If you need me I'll be at the magic shop until dark."

"And after?"

"Page me."

***

Anya didn't bother to look up from the register when the bell on the door jingled, which normally in Sunnydale could have been a problem. However, today was Halloween and the former demon knew that any self-respecting demon was at home or holed up somewhere until tomorrow night. The humans didn't really understand why, she reflected, but that was fine.

"We're closing," she called. "Go away."

"Anya?"

She looked up to find Riley standing rather nervously before the counter, fidgeting. He never fidgeted. "Why are you here? Buffy and Giles left earlier. And why are you fidgeting? You don't usually fidget."

Riley was increasingly uncomfortable around Anya, why he wasn't sure. Perhaps it had to do with the whole demon thing, he thought. "I, ah, know Buffy's not here, but I was hoping maybe Willow would be in. I have a few questions … "

"About what?" she asked suspiciously. 

"Halloween," he stated. "Why was Buffy talking about seeing dead people? What has that got to do with everything?"

Before she could answer the bell jingled again and a freshly showered Xander strolled through the door, starting only slightly when he saw Riley. "Riley … what's up?"

"I just had a few questions, but if you're busy -- "

Anya closed the register with a snap and leaned against the counter. "Halloween is an old holiday," she told him. "Very old. It's the day of the dead."

"I thought that was in Mexico?" Xander chimed in.

Anya frowned at her boyfriend. "It is, Xander, but it's a relative term. It's the one day when the dead can travel back and forth freely and anyone who truly wishes to see them can do so."

Riley shifted. "So, why was Buffy so upset earlier?"

"Buffy was upset?" Xander asked.

Anya eyed them both. "We had a small Samhain ritual early this morning; Buffy and Willow saw people … maybe they had a message. I didn't ask, and if you were wise you'd leave it alone."

By now, Xander was growing anxious. "How upset … what, who did they see? Are they okay?"

Anya shrugged. "Buffy and Giles are gone now, but she seemed fine, and Willow went with Tara to the festival."

"Earlier this afternoon Buffy said she had to see Giles tonight," Riley told him. "Something about putting ghosts to rest, something that should have been done years ago."

Understanding dawned and Xander seemed to both calm and tense and the same time. He ignored the strange looks he was getting, instead turning his attention to Riley. "She'll be fine, Riley. Go home, watch some cheesy horror films and pass out candy tonight, and you'll hear from her tomorrow."

Riley frowned. "You know what's going on?"

Xander wisely held his own counsel for once. "I might," he told the taller man. "But even if I'm right, this is between Buffy and Giles."

"And their ghosts," Anya added.

"Yeah," Xander seconded.

Riley finally acquiesced and turned to go, but Anya grabbed his arm and handed him something long and thin wrapped in tissue paper. He looked at it for a moment, the aroma tickling his nose, before turning a questioning gaze on her.

Anya shrugged. "You wanted to know. It's wormwood incense -- you use it to see the ghosts. Those are the sticks we keep around for the newbies and the wannabes and those who just like the smell. They're very inexpensive; give me two dollars."

Riley just stared for a moment and then pulled out his wallet and handed her the cash. She took the money and rang it up, telling him, "We've answered your questions, you have a product and we have your money. Please leave now."

Xander glared.

Anya just smiled. "And have a nice night."

***

When the sun slipped below the horizon darkness descended on the little town that sat atop the Hellmouth. Children in costumes scampered about, going door to door begging for candy while parents and escorts chuckled from the roadsides. Vampires kept to their lairs this night, except for a certain platinum blond who cornered kids and managed to scare a few out of their candy. Even the demons stayed out of sight, many not even bothering to go to Willy's for company, but rather choosing to stay in and sleep or catch up on the books they'd been avoiding for a few centuries.

Outside of town, two Witches joined a crowd that numbered near a hundred at a festival to mark the occasion.

At an upscale restaurant across town, a young couple toasted their "anniversary" and gave each other meaningful looks. Both knew there was much sex in their immediate future.

In a small apartment, a blond man lit a stick and inhaled the scent that wafted under his nose as he peered into the night.

And in a loft, the Watcher and the Slayer sat across from one another in silence, both contemplating what had passed between them already this night. Both knew that there was more to be said, more to be done, before the sun would rise and bring a new day.

"We don't talk about it."

A beat. "I know."

"We should, we need to. We should have done this before."

"Should we? What can be accomplished by digging up old wounds?"

"Only the living make death unbearable," Buffy quoted softly. "She wanted you to be happy, Giles."

"Did she?" he asked, his voice tight.

"You know she did … but you can't let go."

Giles turned a sardonic look on his Slayer. "Pot, kettle."

Buffy nodded, tears budding in her eyes. "It's so hard, Giles, so hard. I still see her there on the floor," she choked out.

Almost immediately the Watcher was beside his Slayer, his arms pulling her close as the tears she thought she had shed began to fall once more. She buried her face in his chest and sobbed, and he held her tightly as his own eyes watered as the years of grief finally found expression. Where once the two might have yelled and argued and accused, tonight they merely held one another and grieved for what was lost. One mourned a love thwarted that might have been, the other a friend and sister who was found too late and lost too soon, and together they mourned for what they had done to one another in their grief. Curled together they faced their fears and opened their hearts, pouring out what they once kept locked tightly within. 

"I wanted to die with her," he whispered.

"I lost something that night," she told him.

"Even afterwards, when I no longer wanted to die … I no longer knew how to live."

"She didn't deserve what happened, Slayer or not I should have been there … "

"Now I'm afraid to get that close again."

"I couldn't look at Faith without seeing her, and I hurt someone else in the process," she confessed.

Silence reigned and only the ragged breathing and occasional sobs broke the stillness. Both stared, green eyes meeting hazel as Giles slowly rose from the embrace and walked into the kitchen. When he emerged moments later, Buffy noted with some surprise that he carried two plates of various fruit slices and bread, as well as a white candle. She gave him a small smile and sat across from him as he lit the wick, grasping his hands after he disposed of the match.

"I loved Jenny," he said simply. "A part of me will always love her, but I know she's gone now, passed beyond my reach in this life. And as much as I know that Angel was not to blame for her death, I know you bear no fault either."

Buffy was silent, but her eyes told him that she clearly did not feel the same.

"You said that their message was that only the living made death unbearable," he said. "Buffy, by blaming yourself for her death -- for their deaths -- you hold onto them. Guilt is as strong as love, and sometimes stronger."

She bowed her head. "Kendra was a Slayer, Giles. When I met her and finally got over our differences, I realized that I was no longer alone, that I had a sister-in-arms, someone who knew exactly what I felt every damn day, someone who understood. It was my fault that she was placed in the situation that got her killed."

Giles closed his eyes as he remembered the straight-laced Slayer. "She was raised to be a Slayer, Buffy, and she died doing her duty … which she felt honored to do. Buffy … do you really believe that she would have visited you this morning, given you that message, if she blamed you?"

"No," she said slowly. "But -- "

"Buffy," Giles said gently. "There are no buts."

Tears streaked the Slayer's face, but her eyes told him she understood. She squeezed his hands and took a deep breath. "I miss Kendra … I miss Jenny Calendar, and I'm sorry that I never got to tell them so many things before they died. I never really blamed Jenny for what happened to Angel, but because of who she was she made … an easy target."

Giles inhaled sharply.

Buffy heard him but plunged ahead. "And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I made her feel like you and she couldn't be together … but I know she doesn't blame me; if she had she wouldn't have translated the curse."

"Kendra was a wonderful person and a very excellent Slayer," Giles told her. "She died tragically in battle and we will always miss her. We miss a her as a friend and as part of our family … we mourn her death as only family can."

"I love you, Kendra," Buffy whispered. "I hope you can hear me, wherever you are, and I hope you forgive me for holding on for so long … both of you. I'm going to let go tonight, but I'll never forget."

Giles squeezed her hands. "Jenny … I miss you terribly. I miss the way you teased me, the way you made me face the modern age and I know you would want me to face this. For years I've lived half a life because I was afraid of getting too close to someone else, too afraid I might loose them and too afraid I might loose what little I still had of you. But tonight, tonight I'm letting go. It's time."

"I love you," they whispered. 

A tiny breeze swirled around them briefly, encircling them like a warm blanket. It stayed only seconds but extinguished the candle before it faded away. 

'Goodbye.'

***

"Ugh."

Wesley looked up from the papers he had been perusing to find Cordelia standing in the doorway, her once elegant Cleopatra costume in horrible disarray. There were a few small rips in her skirt, one of the straps on her top had been sliced, her cosmetics were running, her hair was askew and there was a bruise on her shoulder.

All in all, she looked quite unlike the refined and suave woman he had seen earlier.

"Cordelia," he said, rising to help her if needed. "What happened?"

"The party was not so good," she told him. "And right now I need to wash up and change, so I'm gonna go upstairs."

"Of course," he murmured as she swept up the stairs. "It must have been quite a party … "

"More like a rave," a familiar voice put in.

Wesley turned to find Gunn leaning against the counter, his eyes tracking Cordelia as she continued her ascent. "Gunn, is there a problem … ?"

Gunn shook his head. "Oh, no. I don't mind the princess, who swears it's her place to save my life, calling me up out of the blue and asking for a ride here. I don't mind one bit."

"She called you?"

"Uh huh."

"Mmmm, I wonder why?"

Gunn shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe you weren't picking up the phone."

"No one has called tonight, not we expected anyone to. After all, it is Halloween."

"So?"

Wesley started. "I thought Angel mentioned this … "

"He said Halloween was a safe night for humans, when it comes to demons," Gunn told him. "He didn't say why."

"They find it crass and commercialized," Wesley replied. 

"So they stay in?" Gunn said in disbelief. "Just because of that?"

"Yes, just for that," Cordelia broke in, having returned.

Both men stared at her for a moment. Unlike the usually coifed Cordelia or the after-battle disheveled Cordelia, this one stood before them without a shred of makeup, hair in a ponytail and in drawstring pants and a camisole top.

She was also barefoot.

"Hey, you've both seen me look way worse than this," she pointed out. "Besides, nothing happens on Halloween … except for that fluke a few years ago."

"Fluke?" Wesley asked. "Oh, yes, I remember reading of the incident in Giles' diary. People began turning into their costumes, correct?"

"Yeah, it was so the definition of freaky, even for Sunnydale."

"Whoa, back it up," Gunn broke in. "People actually turned into their costumes?"

Cordelia nodded.

"That's just … " Gunn found himself momentarily at a loss for words.

"Really, really weird?"

"That's beyond weird, that's into un-damn-believable. How did that happen?"

Cordelia started to speak, but Wesley quietly broke in. "Cordelia, why did you call Gunn to pick you up?"

The former May Queen and reluctant Seer looked defensive and affronted at having her motives questioned, but deflated when she saw the look on Wesley's face. She turned to Gunn, hoping he would shrug it off, and sighed when he crossed his arms and looked at her. "I … thought had stashed my bag pretty well, but when I went to touch up my eyeliner I couldn't find it. When it finally turned up all my cash was missing. I didn't know if you'd be here to pay a cab, or if Angel would even be here, so … "

"All your cash?" Wesley jumped up. "Was anything else taken? Your identification, credit cards -- "

She shook her head. "Do you honestly think I'm that stupid? I only took my keys, my eyeliner and lipstick, my pager -- just in case -- and some cash. Nothing else was missing."

"Hey, I saw that party and it sounds like you got off easy," Gunn told her.

"Well," Wesley hesitated.

"Just forget about it," Cordelia told them. "Sorry if I ruined your evening."

"No problem," Gunn said sardonically. "But do you mind telling about how people turned into their Halloween costumes?"

"Well, it started out with a new costume store … actually it probably started with two friends having a big fight in England years ago … "

*** 

Halloween, All Hallows, Hallowmas, Samhain, the Day of the Dead … all names for a forty-eight hour period. It's strange that on this night that celebrates death that I find myself thinking of you, writing a letter to you that I know I will never post. Or perhaps not so strange, for you were the one who made me wake from a long stupor … you made want to *live* again. I started on the road for you, but now I travel the road for myself and for all the others who need my help. 

Yet, I still love you and my most fervent prayer is that the road I travel brings me back to you … and I hope that we will walk it together. "Together you are strong, alone you are dead" are the words the Morha demon spoke on the Day That Wasn't, the day you don't remember. If those words are a foreshadowing of our future, as they may very well be, then one day, my love, we will find one another once more. And perhaps next time, when we've both grown and learned from our experiences, when we know our limits, we'll get it right.

Darla is back and this time she's human. She has a soul although the demon's memories, feelings and personality remains, but the she wants me to be him again. That will never happen, though. I cannot allow him to ever walk freely in this realm ever again, just as I will not allow her to harm you.

I think she would give up on Angelus if she thought she could kill you … 

So, I spend this night thinking of you. I have no wish to think of my father or my long dead family, or of the countless victims of my demon. Only you. Tonight, when the dead walk I wish to think of the living, and no one is more *alive* than you, my Buffy. 

And I pray for the day when I will join you.

***

"Here is the cycle of rebirth: all passes out of life, but all may be born again. Everything passes, changes. Seed becomes fruit; fruit becomes seed. In birth, we die; on death, we feed. Be free of all fear, for the circle, the wheel, is ever turning."

END


	4. The Longest Night

TITLE: The Longest Night 

SERIES: Wheel of the Year

AUTHOR: Nymue

EMAIL: josette@aol.com

RATED: R

DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Not yours. They belong to Joss, the WB, UPN and FOX. This is a not-for-profit fanfiction. No infringement is intended. 

SUMMARY: The Winter Solstice is the longest night of the year in more than one sense. 

SPOILERS: For action, up through "Into the Woods" and "Reunion."

NOTE: The incantation is adapted from the one by Starhawk in "The Spiral Dance." 

FEEDBACK: Is much appreciated.

***

_A woman once confessed to her priest that she had been gossiping. To her surprise, he merely instructed that she go gather the ripe head of a thistle and scatter the seeds on the wind, then return to him. She did so, all the while wondering about such an odd request. However, her penance was only beginning; when she returned to the priest, he did not forgive her but said, "The thistledown is scattered as were your idle words. My daughter, go and gather up the thistledown!"_

_-- **Chasing Thistledown**, a folk tale of unknown origin as told by Laura Ingalls Wilder_

***

I've told a lot of lies.

Too many, way too many.

I've lied about the little things, like the way I feel, you know, the stuff we all lie about sometimes. But I've told some even worse lies … and the worst were the ones I'd told myself.

Until tonight.

Most of my lies were about my parents. I tried to pretend they didn't drink, that he didn't hit me and she didn't care, but I always knew so I always lied. Wills knew, or had an idea even as a kid … she never suggested that we stay at my house and I never said a word. I was too relieved. Even Jesse knew, I think, but he never said anything either. 

Giles always knew, in that stuffy British way he has of knowing just about everything, but he never said anything either … just let it be known that his door was always open and his mouth closed. I took him up on his offer a couple of times, but we never really talked about it and we certainly never mentioned it to the others.

Cordy … how could she not know? I tried to hide it like I always did but she had this way of cutting through all the bullshit. She tried to help; she actually *talked* about it, but I guess I wasn't ready cause although she talked, *we* never talked. I loved her, lusted after her, but *we* never talked … *she* talked at me. At least she never brought it up after she went back to the Corbitches, oops, I mean, Cordettes.

And Buffy. Buffy. You know, she pretended not to, but there were days when I was sure she knew, like those nights when I patrolled with her and we would talk … it was like she could see the truth behind the lies. She never mentioned it but, like Willow, never suggested anything that would put me in their way. She taught me about honor and loyalty and fighting … and I lied to her more than once. I think that I lied to her and to myself *about* her more than anything else; like, I told her she was one of my best friends but I never even tried to support her relationship with Angel. The words "Willow says kick his ass" come to mind, and when I lied to Faith about Angel … and the way I lied to myself about her feelings for me. I always thought that if Angel were gone then I would have a chance, and when it finally happened I didn't care as much as I thought I would. 

Why? 

Anya. It's funny, but Anya figured it out almost immediately and proceeded to talk about it, to make me talk about it. She could -- can -- bitch about the oddest thing, but she cares. She *cares.* And she makes me care, too. A year ago I wasn't sure about what we had, if it was real or just another fluke, but ever since this spring and especially after the whole Toth thing I started to understand. I can tell her things that I've never told anyone else, like those five little words I said on a sunny morning in 1998 when the world almost ended. She listened and told me what she honestly thought ("if I had been around here then I probably would have cursed you for that"), but it didn't change her feelings for me. And … I had never realized what was happening last year until after the whole First Slayer thing … it took me months to realize that I was changing, that she was *helping* me change not *making* me change. I can't lie to her; I can't hide things from her … and I love her for it.

Which is why what I did tonight was so truly horrible. 

I lied tonight, out of anger and ignorance. And not just to myself, either … I lied to Riley and Buffy, too. I told him that she would get past these problems and that they would be okay, but I knew better. I knew that this was it; Riley had told me months ago that he knew Buffy didn't love him and I couldn't contradict him then. I tried to tonight, but it was an effort in futility, to quote Giles. And I was mad -- at her, at him, at me. So when I saw her … I wanted to help her, to help them heal their great relationship … but one look in her eyes told me that it had been a sham. She was pretending so much, withholding … and he hadn't. And she knew it, so she was going to let him go.

But somehow I just couldn't hold it in. I shouldn't have lied to her like that. I shouldn't have told her that he was so great for her when not three minutes later I realized I was lying. For him, yes, but for me too; it was like all my unrequited feelings of being not good enough for her came to the surface. And I knew it was wrong, damn it! I haven't cared about her like that in nearly a year, but I just couldn't stop my mouth. And she ran … but I have this feeling it was too late.

And that it's for the best.

But I still hurt her tonight. She'll blame herself, she always does, but I know I made it worse by opening my mouth. And I won't stop now. It's time to keep talking, to get it all out, because there are things that I've left unsaid for too damn long. No more standing in front of this door wondering, debating. It's time.

Now.

"I've gotta say something ... 'Cause ... I don't think I've made it clear. I'm in love with you. Powerfully, painfully in love. The things you do ... the way you think ... the way you move ... I get excited every time I'm about to see you. You make me feel like I've never felt before in my life. Like a man. I just thought you might wanna know."

***

Lies.

pain

How much of what she told me was lies, how much was truth? 'I've given you all of myself,' or some such drivel she spouted off months ago, now makes me feel … angry. Very angry. I don't have all of her, obviously. Her mother, her sister, Giles, the others … they occupy a larger part of her than I ever will.

And let's not even start on the vampires. Please. It's just wrong. I can see why they're drawn to her, but why is the feeling mutual? hunger She's supposed to kill them, not fuck them! And never, ever love them!

need

Oh, God, help me. This hurts; it hurts so much. Is this my punishment for straying from the Cause, for idling with Buffy? Or are You her partisan? Is this my punishment for what I did, what I allowed them to do? And if it is, why aren't You punishing her, too?

prick

Oh, yes. This is good. Thank you, Graham, I needed that. 

"It'll be okay, Riley," he assures me. "The withdrawal will be over soon and then we'll get you back into the mission. We'll be far away from Sunnydale."

The mission. The Cause.

numb

Far, far away … 

***

"Lemme get this straight: the priest told her to go pick up all the seeds?" Faith sounded incredulous. "That's not possible."

The shrink, Lenny, just looked at her.

"Okay," she said grudgingly. "I get the point. She couldn't pick up all her lies, right?"

"Right."

"So what's that got to do with me?"

"What d'ya think, doll?"

"I think you're being cryptic."

"Maybe."

Faith snorted, but she thought about it nonetheless. She'd told a lot of lies in her life, yeah, but somehow she didn't think it had anything to do with lying, not really. Everyone -- or almost everyone -- she lied to knew about it now, and they were dealing and she was dealing, so that wasn't it. Besides, you can't pick up lies except to say "sorry" whereas you can do good things to make up for bad things -- 

"You're talking about redemption, right? Chasing thistledown equals the long road to redemption."

Lenny grinned. "Now you're getting there."

"But chasing the thistle stuff sounds pointless, like you can't do it … it's pointless. That's the point."

"Not really," Lenny told her. "It just takes time and persistence … and once you start you can't stop."

Faith studied his face for a moment, much as she had during their first encounter. He looked human, sounded human, but he didn't *feel* human; yet, for all that, she trusted him as much as she could anyone. She was never sure why she trusted him, but she did. "So, Lenny … how do you know so much about redemption. And how did a demon get to be a shrink?"

"In reverse order? Don't ask, don't tell, and it happens to be my special area. I have lots of expertise in helping all sorts of beings back on the right tract."

"Don't ask, don't tell, huh," Faith snorted. "I guess that means Lenny ain't your real name."

"I've got lots of names, kid, you can't expect me to remember them all," Lenny grinned. "Besides, it doesn't matter."

"Oh, really?"

He shrugged. "You're not the first one to need a little help finding your balance, Faith, and you won't be the last either. But right now I'm all yours."

Faith snorted again. "And this is supposed to reassure me? How am I supposed to know your tract record, Mr. I Mugged a Clown?"

Lenny leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the desk. "Well, doll, if it helps … "

"Yeah?"

"My last assignment?"

She raised an eyebrow.

"Was Angel."

Faith stared.

Lenny winked.

***

How did this happen?

Wesley looks shell-shocked, or whatever that term is. Gunn doesn't look so good, either. 

And why are they looking at me like that? Why?

Oh.

It's my face, I feel it now, the expression that's frozen to my face. Someone once told me that if your expression stayed the same for too long that it would freeze that way and never change. You know, the old line that goes 'if you don't quit frowning your face will freeze that way' … or something like. Silly words to scare a little girl who already knew about the importance of appearances … but it did scare me, later, after I joined Buffy and the others. Not like magick scary, but afraid that I'd stayed apart so long that I couldn't afford to feel … and later I worried that I just *couldn't* feel, but then came Xander and everything else, and I knew that not only could I feel but that I did feel. And by then I didn't want to feel, so the expression became frozen again until I hit LA and everything with Doyle … and I can't hide from the visions. 

I thought that I'd never feel this raw, though. The visions don't feel this bad … I feel like I've been impaled again through those words, those two simple words … 

"Oh, God, no … "

***

Joyce glanced over her shoulder at the table and took a steadying breath. Rupert had promised that tonight was more ritual than spells and magick, which was why she had agreed to host the Winter Solstice meeting that Willow and Tara had planned. A brazier with a heat-absorbing mat beneath it sat atop her dining room table, permeating the air with spicy scents that she was forced to admit reminded her vaguely of her childhood Christmases. Even the mulled cider and the mistletoe and holly decorations seemed perfectly normal for the seasonal celebration, and she was once more struck with the feeling that perhaps she had been wrong to dissuade Dawn from learning a bit of Witchcraft. Still, she acknowledged that she would feel better if her eldest were present. "Shouldn't we wait for Buffy?"

Giles looked up from his preparations to meet the troubled eyes of his Slayer's mother. She seemed so much better and would be even moreso if the doctors were to be believed, but her eyes still looked tired. "No, she said to start without her. I believe that she had business tonight … with Riley, perhaps."

"What about Xander and Anya?"

Dawn snickered.

Joyce narrowed her eyes at her daughter. "Just what is that supposed to mean?"

Long, dark hair was tossed back as Dawn lifted her head to stare at her mother, blue eyes incredulous. "We all know what they're doing, Mom. Think about it."

Joyce was flustered the response and glanced to Giles only to find that doing so still made her blush, even after more than two years. It was one night Joyce, she chided herself, if you're going to blush, blush about that nice Brian you met recently. "Oh, yes, well, mmmphmm … "

Luckily, she was saved by the entrance of Willow and Tara, who promptly seated everyone and cast a simple circle. A circle was more for show, but it should still be done unless the spell was really small and simple or there was no time, Willow thought as she prepared the prelude speech. "This is the night of the Solstice, the longest night of the year. Now the darkness triumphs, yet gives way for the light … we wait for the coming of dawn … the promise of summer. This is the stillness behind motion, when time itself stops … we are awake in the night … "

Tara took up the reins. "To die is to be reborn, but what must you lose to the night?"

Five sets of eyes met across the table and their mouths spoke in unison even as each reached out for a connection of flesh and blood, squeezes and light touches giving reassurance. "Fear, fear is lost to the night … "

***

Fear and lies.

For the two strongest warriors, the champions of prophecy, these two things cause pain, anguish and despair. One knows the power that lies can have, knows the pain they bring even when meant with the best of intentions. One sees a few lies as necessary to the greater good. Both are correct and both are wrong. Both have much to fear, but both have learned that their fears need not rule them. 

But only practice makes perfect.

END


	5. Circles of Light

TITLE: Circles of Light (1/1)

SERIES: The Wheel of the Year

AUTHOR: Nymue

EMAIL: josette@aol.com

RATED: PG13

DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Not yours. They belong to Joss, the WB, UPN and FOX. This is a not-for-profit fanfiction. No infringement is intended. 

SUMMARY: Reflections, introspection and conversations on the past and future while preparing for a Candlemas celebration.

SPOILERS: Up through "Checkpoint" and "Blood Money."

NOTE: Incantation by Starhawk, from "The Spiral Dance." 

NOTE2: Previous stories: http://dencity.com/le--sanctuaire

FEEDBACK: is much appreciated.

***

I am first, I am last.

I am loved and I am scorned.

I am life, I am death.

I am pure and I am soiled.

I am the knowledge

that hides within all questions.

I am what is, and I

am the seeking itself.

I am all that is within you

and all that is outside you.

I am the garment that shows you

the secret shape of your soul.

-- Gnostic prayer to Mary Magdalene

***

She walks the night.

The light of the moon is silvery and cold tonight, sharp and piercing like fangs or talons. There's a chill to the breeze that reminds her of the month and of her circumstances, but there is no need to sum it all up. She knows.

She has always known.

Deep inside, deep down to the farthest reaches of her being she has always known who and what she is. It was her surface self who denied the truth, the young girl and teenager who wanted desperately to be loved and to love in return. And denial is a strong force, stronger than some may think; but even in the heights, or depths depending on one's view, of denial she knew the truth. 

She is not like the Others; she is not even like Others of her Kind.

Spike, she mused, knew some of it, understood some of it, just as Angelus had. Angel had known too, but somehow his denial had outmatched hers and … and because she loved him, and because she was angry, she tried to be someone else. She ignored her instincts and found someone nice, someone kind, someone she could have a "relationship" with, but it had been a lie from the start. Even then her shadow self, her true self had pulled back, unable to share the truth with someone whom she knew could not handle the whole package. But still, she tried; she fought, she ignored, she focused, she tried.

She failed. 

Her shadow self, her true self, was emerging from the shadows and with her came a multitude of changes. The blood she had known so the hunt was the first, then came the magic and then the realization of power. Was this how Faith felt, she wondered. Was it this sense of power that made her give in to her primal self? Did it even matter?

She wasn't sure.

'You think you know … who you are, what's to come. You haven't even begun.' Words spoken in a dream and in reality, but she wonders … why a dream, why from Dracula? They were just as easily her words, words her shadow self had been speaking for years. Perhaps … 

She stopped.

Perhaps that had been what the dream was telling her. Too far removed from the shadow of truth, she could no longer understand its message. The uber-Tara had said it had no voice … then they fought … she and her friends woke up. Yet, for all that, there was more of the First in her now … or rather now she could truly begin to comprehend the dream and what the uber-Tara meant, what the fight meant. They had been well matched, those two, and in the end it was not that one had triumphed but that she had accepted the shadow. She could not exist merely as the surface self … but the shadow could not stand alone either.

She had to be both. 

She was both.

The surface and the shadow were becoming one.

***

"I thought the Buffster was coming," Xander commented, his eyes flicking to the three women with whom he shared the circle. "You know, maybe bring Dawn along and show her what's the what."

"And I thought Giles was supposed to be here," Anya said, her voice curious and exasperated all at once. "We closed early, lost money and further capital to be here."

Willow raised her eyes to look at her best friend and his girlfriend and for the first time since the previous summer, she was able to see Anya as something than Xander's 'orgasm friend.' Strange as it might be, they had a real relationship that had many weathered things, including the kind that broke others apart. Never let it be said that communication was a problem with them; considering Anya's unique situation, they probably the most open relationship of any Scooby -- past or present.

"Giles had some research to do," she explained, lighting the candles. "You know, sorting through all the stuff those Council people left behind for us. Since he has the magic shop now he can't spend all day working on it like he used to."

Tara finished braiding the strands of dried herbs and placed next to the brazier, then looked up at Xander. "And Buffy had to patrol … she s-said there was some funny activity down near the docks last night."

Xander raised his eyebrows. "New demon?"

Tara shrugged. "She didn't say and … "

"I think she wants to spend some quality time with her mom and Dawn," Willow confided. "You know, since the surgery … "

"Oh." Personally, Xander wasn't quite so sure. While Buffy no doubt did want some extra Mom and Dawn time, he couldn't help but wonder if she was still hurting over Riley just a little. Despite what she had told him after the Troll Fiasco about love, caring and Slayer/Normality, he knew that yet another desertion by a man she cared about had stung … still stung. That said man had left because he could not deal with Buffy -- all of Buffy -- only made it ten times worse. "So, tonight is Candlewhatsit?"

Willow smiled. "Candlemas, Xander, Candlemas. Also known as Groundhog Day."

Anya shuddered. "Groundhogs, bunnies … eeew."

Tara smiled at Anya's odd fear and handed Willow a long matchstick that the redhead promptly lit before passing it around the circle, each person present lighting one of two candles placed before them. Once its trip was completed, Tara tossed the flaming stick into the brazier, symbolically lighting the hearth fire. "This is the f-feast of the waxing light," she began. "What was born at the Solstice begins to manifest as the days grow longer."

"This is the time of individuation," Willow continued. "Within the measures of the spiral we each light our own light and become uniquely ourselves. It is the time of initiation, of beginning, when seeds that will later sprout and grow begin to stir from their dark sleep. We meet to share the light … "

***

Light. 

There are times when he misses the light, the light of companionship, of love, of belief. 

Of hope. 

However, he knows that to surround himself with that light now would be utter folly. The others would only become infected with his darkness, or their light would be extinguished by the greater darkness that he readies himself to fight. No, better to send the light away, to douse the lamps and pull the plug than hurt innocent souls.

Souls that still believe, still hope. 

Still feel.

Which is not sat that he does not feel -- he feels a great deal. It is his anger, his remorse and need to exterminate the others of his blood that wreak havoc on this city that have driven him to this holy war. A war in which, ultimately, there are no winners, only survivors. The problem is, as long as they go down, he no longer cares if he survives.

And so the light dims further. 

***

"How is it that we're back in this freaky-ass club *again?*"

Wesley studied Gunn over the rim of his glass and shrugged. "It's the only place in this town where we can be completely safe from all manner of attacks."

"Besides, they serve killer drinks," Cordelia told him. 

Gunn looked skeptical. "I'll give you that, but man, I'm still getting over our last experience. Why'd we have to come *here* tonight?"

"It's the second day of February," Wesley stated.

"Huh?"

Cordelia snorted. "Okay, so it's Groundhog Day. I didn't hear about the shadow and really don't care."

Wesley's eyes rolled heavenward for the briefest of seconds before they once more came to rest on his companions. They had already been through so much together, and alone, that he doubted for a moment what he was going to ask them to do. But as soon as the thought flitted across his mind it was banished; too much had happened and would happen. And the timing couldn't have been better. He cleared his throat. "Groundhogs aside, this is a time of when many people begin to look forward to spring, to a new beginning as it were."

A dark shadow of sadness and anger, held together by a strand of guilt crossed Cordelia's face. She looked down at her drink, then back up at Wesley. Gunn fidgeted and drained his glass, the sound of the glass meeting the tabletop when he slammed it down enough to draw a glance from a neighboring table. "Yeah, some beginning. Like we've done real great so far."

Wesley winced.

"But it's still a fresh start, and we're doing it by ourselves," Cordelia whispered. "Migraine-inducing visions, and all."

Gunn sat back in his chair and pondered the other two for moment, trying to remember just how he had come to be a part of this freaky, messed-up, fucked-up-beyond-all-recognition "us" that they were talking about. It wasn't like he didn't have a crew, but somehow these two and their former vampire boss had formed a motley mixed unit that actually accomplished more than a bit of dusting. And, if he was honest, he liked being a part of that unit; liked to be able to sleep at night knowing he'd done more than just dust some vamps. 

Not that that wasn't something to be proud of.

"Okay," he said, leaning forward and propping his elbows up on the table. "Let's say I buy that … and I kinda do. What's the point of this little gathering? Cause listening to this guy sing is just killing my ears."

"He's not that bad," Cordelia objected, grimacing as the Host hit a particularly high note. 

Gunn stared pointedly.

"Okay, okay," Cordelia muttered. "I stand corrected."

Wesley leaned forward, matching Gunn's stance as he laced his fingers together. "The point is that we not only accept that our situation has changed, but that we actively work toward developing a new future together."

"You asking me to give up my crew?" Gunn demanded.

"No, not at all," Wesley reassured him. "But I am asking that you consider us on that same level. There is, after all, still more evil to be fought in this city … and Cordelia and I cannot do it alone." 

Gunn rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand and sighed, swearing softly under his breath. Wesley didn't ask for much, nah, just all that he himself had to give. Sighing, he focused his gaze on the two who had come to mean more to him than he could have expected. "Okay, I'll give it a shot. A new beginning for the three of us, right? I'll drink to that."

"Here, here," Cordelia said, raising her glass. 

"To us," Wesley murmured as three glasses clicked together. "And to our future … whatever it holds."

***

Hey Angel,

Whadda ya know, the guards are trusting me with an ink pen and some paper again. Guess they figure if I was gonna do something with it I'd have done it last time. Who knows?

I really wanna go into the pleasantries, A, tell you that the shrink has helped, and that I'm actually being allowed to take a couple of classes, but there's bigger news. CC told me last time she visited that you were going through some tough shit, and I believed her (you shoulda seen her face, A, she was wicked worried). And now you're not visiting or answering when I get to make my weekly shrink approved call … I know you got a life, or something, but there's trouble brewin'. Maybe your radio silence means you already know, but I gotta tell ya.

I've been having dreams, freaky, scary Slayer dreams and damn near all of it is about B. There's nothing specific, just fractured images that scare me shitless … but I can't seem to remember them long enough after I wake up. And although the new shrink might could help (Lenny got transferred to some other needy soul, but he says to tell you that you need to let them in, whatever *that* means), I can't see her really buying into the prophetic dreams stuff -- I didn't, until B told me about some of hers, and until right before I woke up in the hospital. 

Anyway, let me know when you read this. Answer the phone, come visit or send CC … hell, I'm sure you could write to me for that matter. Something, though, A. I'm dead serious.

***

Official Log: 2.2.01: 2300. No agents lost on assignment, but there were three injuries and one (Agent Haddock) has been flown to the nearest medical facility capable of treating his wounds. All twelve Fyarl demons were eliminated and, since they are mercenaries, steps are being taken to trace their employer. Stop.

Personal Entry: Some days are harder than others, and Mom was none too pleased that I was incommunicado over the holidays because I had accepted a deep cover mission. Still, it's easier to deal with her displeasure than to remember what happened between me and Buffy. After the agony of withdrawal, time, distance and several hard talks with Graham, I have to admit that what happened was probably destined, although I hate that word. Buffy told me early on that she was a lot of things, and naively I thought I could deal with all of it -- she was just a girl, albeit a VERY strong girl that killed vamps and demons, right? I have never been so wrong. What's worse, I didn't see that it wouldn't work … no, I did that, but after meeting Angel I got stubborn, I thought that I could make myself into something else. 

It's funny, all that time with Walsh, all that psychology and I forgot two fundamental rules of relationships: sometimes just being there doing nothing is more important than having someone cry on your shoulder, and if you try to be someone else it never works out. Both Buffy and I were trying to be something we weren't -- I was trying to be the superboyfriend for her when she wanted me to be normal, and she was trying to be something like normal for me when she wasn't. I'm not saying that I blame it all on her, I can finally admit that I had as much to do with our problems as she. And our problem was that we were not what the other needed, not really. Maybe love does conquer all sometimes. 

Just not with us. 

End Entries: 2.2.01: 2342.

END


	6. Equipoise

TITLE: Equipoise (1/1)

SERIES: Wheel of the Year

AUTHOR: Nymue

EMAIL: josette@aol.com

RATED: PG13

DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Not yours. They belong to Joss, the WB, UPN and FOX. This is a not-for-profit fanfiction. No infringement is intended. 

SUMMARY: Day and night are once more in perfect balance, leading Buffy and Faith to an understanding.

SPOILERS: Set in between "Forever" and "Intervention," but with hints to the end of BS5.

NOTE: The incantation is adapted from the one by Starhawk in "The Spiral Dance." 

NOTE2: Chronologically, this occurs after "Circles of Light."

SPECIAL THANKS: To Kristina, for being a wonderful beta reader, sounding board and all-around great friend. Thanks! Therefore, if any mistakes remain they are entirely my own.

FEEDBACK: Is much appreciated

***

Earth, Mother and Grandmother, we are speaking to you,

please listen to us! We know that we are all related.

We are your children, we two-legged ones, just like

the four-legged and the winged ones are your children.

We are all related. We are their relations,

and they are ours, all children of the same mother.

If we are all related to you, mother, we must make peace.

Why should your children fight like this? We are all related.

Help us to make peace with each other, lasting peace

among relatives. Mother, Grandmother, Earth,

may we walk lovingly and with mercy upon your paths.

May we make peace with all our relations.

-- prayers from Lakota ceremony for the making of relatives

***

Mid-morning sunlight filtered in through the windows as four women settled onto cushions that littered the living room floor of what was, Buffy reflected, now technically her house. Legally, anyway. However to her, and to the others assembled, their gathering place was still undeniably the home made by Joyce Summers, and one of their number even thought that echoes of the woman remained. It was most definitely not a full-blown haunting or some such, Tara mused, but nor was it simply the scanty remnants of a life cut short. No, it was rather as if traces of Joyce's personality remained embedded in the house itself, free and independent of her living descendants. 

Of course, it could simply be her imagination.

Tara tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear and hummed under her breath, a little melody that her mother had taught her years ago as a way of calming and focusing her mind. It had been years since she had needed the focus technique; she had needed it before she and Willow had confessed their true feelings, yes, but had not afterwards. The high emotions that followed Joyce's death, however, had her concentration scattered. It wasn't just that Buffy and Dawn had lost their mother … it wasn't even that the Slayer had lost her mother … it was as if the whole group had lost a parent. And they might have, she realized as she finished pouring wine for each person. Not one of them had had much of a family until they had formed one of their own, unique in its structure but full of all the little things that were so familiar, and if Giles was undoubtedly the father then it made sense that Joyce had been their mother. 

It was no wonder there was such a gaping hole in their lives, physically and metaphysically.

"Are we ready?" Anya asked.

Willow nodded. "Candles lit for each of us, one red and one white, and we each have our glass of wine."

"I guess we're as ready as we'll ever be," Buffy said wryly. 

Tara nodded and cleared her throat. "We are gathered to celebrate the return of spring, the joyful time when life bursts forth from the earth and the chains of winter are broken."

"Light and dark are equal," Buffy continued, her tired voice full of knowing. "It is a time of balance, when the elements within us must be brought into a new harmony."

"The Prince of the Sun stretches out his hand," Anya said. "Kore, the Dark Maiden, has returned from the land of the dead cloaked in fresh rain with the sweet scent of desire on her breath."

Willow finished the invocation with a smile that belied the sorrow that still troubled her. "Where They step, wild flowers appear. As They dance, despair turns to hope, sorrow to joy, want to abundance … may our hearts open with the spring!"

"We are gathered," Tara stated, eyes fixing on Anya. "What binds you?"

"Need," Anya replied after a moment's pause, as if she was unsure of her answer. "Yes, it's need."

"Where must you go to be free?"

"To the North."

"Come to the North and free your body," Tara beseeched, holding out her glass of wine. Anya reached out until her fingers also wrapped around the glass, tipping the round bowl to her lips and sipping the pale pink liquid. A moment later her hands fell away and Tara returned the glass to its place between her two candles.

Buffy smiled softly and lifted her head to face Willow. "What binds you?"

A look of worry flitted across the redhead's face. "Guilt."

"Where must you go to be free?"

"To the East."

"Come to the East, Willow," Buffy invited, raising her glass. "Come to the East and free your mind." Willow reached for the glass as Anya had before, her fingers enveloping Buffy's as she drank the blush wine on which she and Tara had compromised. 

Once Willow had finished and Buffy's glass was returned, Anya lifted her face to Tara. "What binds you?"

Tara's face was sad. "Faith in another."

"Where must you go to be free?"

"To the South."

Anya lifted her glass to Tara, whose hands slid over the former demon's as she tipped the bowl. "Come to the South and free your spirit."

Tara sipped, feeling her pain wash away, although deep within she knew that no ceremony could prevent or cure the problems in her heart and soul. No, only time and action could do that … but for today it was enough.

Glass dutifully returned to its home in the south, Willow raised her eyes to Buffy's hazel-green orbs. "What binds you?"

"Fear," the Slayer whispered.

"Where must you go to be free?"

"To the West."

"Come to the West," Willow beckoned, raising her glass. "Come and free your emotions." Buffy's fingers slid over those of her best friend as she drank but, she, too, knew the mildly sweet wine trickling down her throat was not enough to wash away her feelings. Actions and words were necessary this time, not symbolism and ritual.

Once the glass was returned to its place between Willow's candles, Tara spoke. "There are remedies to those things which bind us."

"We have taken that which we need," the others answered in unison. 

"As have I," the blonde witch returned. 

"And so we are gathered, still," Buffy stated.

A small smile played along Willow's lips. "Now we shall celebrate."

"Finally," Anya grumbled. "We can eat."

***

Four hours later Buffy sat in a plain room staring at her reflection in the bulletproof plastic, wondering how anyone could manage to exist in such a place. She was not even on the other side and she felt trapped, cornered, with her back against the wall and nowhere to go … it was like the worst possible end to a fight. Which is exactly what it was, she realized. A place of powerlessness where there were more of them than there were of you, a place where fights ended if you didn't die first. It was cold, uncaring, sterile and somehow managed to make Buffy wish she was in the hospital … even that was better than being here. And this was just the outside; what must it be like for those inside? How did they stand it?

How could a Slayer handle it?

"B?"

Buffy's eyes focused and she discovered that her reflection had been replaced with the face of the woman she had come to see. Dark eyes stared back at her with wary surprise, and Buffy noted with no pleasure that Faith looked ready to bolt if need be. She was so pale, too, yet she appeared toned and … calmer, the blonde finally thought.

"Hey, Faith."

Faith's eyes widened a fraction at the unforced civility in the other Slayer's voice. Never had she imagined that she would find Buffy sitting across from her looking for all the world like she had no bone to pick … in fact, Buffy seemed drawn and tired. What had brought her here, Faith wondered. And was it connected to the strange dreams she'd been having? "B," she swallowed. "I, ah, didn't expect to see you here. Usually it's Angel who comes … "

Buffy fidgeted, tucking her hair behind ear to better position the phone. "Yeah, well … it was time."

A small ball of hope built in Faith's chest but she tried desperately to repress it. "Really? I mean, I never expected that you could … that you would forget -- "

"I haven't," Buffy replied. "But I've been thinking a lot lately, about a lot of things, and you've been near the top of the list … oh, god, I don't know how to say this … "

Faith bit her lip but said nothing, her eyes glued to her sister-in-arms. 

"No one can forget, Faith," Buffy told her honestly. "Forgetting … not gonna happen. Forgiving, though? That is doable … now. Back then it was too raw, I was too angry … I was still feeling that betrayal far too deeply to remember something that a wise man once told me -- that to forgive is an act of compassion … it's not done because people deserve it, it's done because they need it. And you need it, Faith … I think we both do."

Faith found herself blinking back tears. A part of her had wanted to hear this, had been doing nothing but waiting for this for years, but another part of her howled that she had done nothing that needed forgiving. She slammed that part of herself into a corner, however, reminding it that it -- they -- had done the unforgivable, otherwise they would be elsewhere. A tear, a tiny tear slid down her cheek and she wiped at it furiously. "Thanks, B … I … I needed to hear that … I'm sorry, B, I'm so sorry. About everything."

Buffy eyes burned from the stinging saltwater that was trapped behind her eyes. "Me too … I'm sorry, too, Faith."

"For what, B?" Faith sounded surprised. "Gettin' me arrested? I did that in more ways than one."

"No, not that … "

"What, then?"

"For what I *didn't* do," Buffy whispered. "Before … before everything, back when it was new … I wasn't there, Faith, I wasn't there for you when I should have been."

Faith shook her head. "I was screwed up, B, too much a mess … "

Buffy took a deep breath. "That too, but not just then. Do you remember that night, Faith?"

Faith's breath caught in her throat. While she had never expected Buffy to be sitting here she had hoped it would happen, but she had never even hoped to hear the blonde bring up the subject voluntarily. She nodded.

"It wasn't a mistake," Buffy told her. "It wasn't a mistake even though I tried to pretend it never happened. I was just so confused … I still loved Angel so much that I was afraid … "

Faith's throat hurt. "If you hadn't … ?"

Buffy closed her eyes at the unspoken words, tears slipping past her barriers to trail down her face. "I don't know," she whispered, opening her eyes to meet Faith's dark orbs. "I wish I could say yes or no, but I can't … maybe things would have grown, maybe not … I just don't know."

The brunette nodded. "Maybe it would've made a difference … maybe not … "

"Was that why … ?"

Faith hung her head a bit, ashamed yet unashamed of what she had done. "Part of it, yeah. It was a good distraction, the mayor was right about that, but he had you B, and I didn't. Jealous doesn't look good on me. Then when we fought … I knew then, how much you loved him … you would have chosen him, B. Even with your head on straight, you would have chosen him. I guess that's why I lost it when I woke up … "

"What do you mean?"

"I was angry when I woke up, B, you know that," Faith told her. "I wanted some action, a little satisfaction, but I never wanted it to go as far as it did."

"Why did it?" Buffy asked, her voice tight. "You dragged some innocent people into our personal mess."

Faith snorted. "Innocent's a relative term, B."

"Faith … "

"I was jealous," Faith sighed. "Angel was already in your life, so were the others, and you and he had the whole tortured love going on … I woke up ready to accept that, B, to accept your choice because he's like us. A hunter. And what did I find?"

Buffy sighed. "Riley."

"Riley," Faith repeated flatly. "A hulking piece of meat and nothing but. Prey. I could accept Angel because he was our equal, the Slayer's darker half made whole, a predator. Riley was human … and to see you with him after what happened over Angel … "

"You flipped," Buffy stated.

"Yeah," Faith responded. "I couldn't understand what you saw in him, so I decided to find out for myself."

"And?"

Faith sighed. "He's meat, B, tasty and sort of yummy, but he'll be nothing but canon fodder one day. He's not like us, he'll never be like us, and finding out how serious he was about you made me wig … I couldn't believe you were contemplating a serious relationship with him."

She laughed and Buffy raised her eyebrows. "It's why I decided to leave Sunnydale in your body," she told the blonde. "I knew you'd follow … I wanted you to come find me … "

Buffy shook her head. "You were drawing me out?"

"Yeah. I figured once I had you alone I could make you remember … make you see the light." 

Buffy sighed.

"I'm sorry, B, really," Faith repeated.

"I'm sorry, too," Buffy replied.

"But B," Faith bit her lip and wondered if she should continue. "He's gonna be a liability one day, you gotta know that. Soldier or not, he's not a natural hunter and … there's some bad shit coming. My dreams have been freakier than usual, Slayer freaky. You got trouble comin', B, and I don't think he's gonna be able to cut it … "

Faith's voice trailed off as she heard bitter laughter coming from the blonde. "B? What is it?"

Buffy wiped her eyes and cleared her throat. "You don't have to worry, Faith. He left."

"When?"

"Just before Christmas … he couldn't take it anymore, he said. He said … oh, god, the things he said … "

"B?" Faith asked. "What did he do?"

Buffy gave her fellow Slayer a bitter smile. "He decided that the vampires were something he couldn't compete with, romance wise, unless he understood my 'fascination' with them."

Faith stared. "It's simple, B. You're a hunter, they're hunters, instant connection."

"He must've forgotten that," Buffy said dryly. "After he met Angel things went downhill. I didn't … I wasn't in love with him, but what he did was so *stupid* Faith, even he should have known better. I know I shut him out, but I had to … "

"What did he do?"

"He started visiting the suck houses," Buffy smiled, her voice brittle. "He figured that paying vamps to suck his blood would help him understand why I love Angel and why Spike has a crush on me … not that I can understand the last one … "

Faith's mouth dropped open. "Fuck, B, fuck. Why'd he do it then? Why not earlier?"

Buffy looked away. "Mom was in the hospital, sick, and I was worried … then there was Dawn and the new big bad … "

"Jesus, B," Faith whispered. "What happened?"

She shrugged. "He gave me an ultimatum -- admit I loved him, promise to let him in or he was leaving. Xander almost convinced me to ask him to stay … but he left. No more Riley and that's of the good in the long run, I think."

"What about your mom, B? You said she was sick … " The minute the words left her mouth Faith wanted to recall them. Buffy's face fell then went perfectly blank except for her eyes, which were full of pain and sorrow and something else alien and yet utterly familiar. "Oh, god, B, no … "

Buffy's head slipped down. "Yeah."

"When?"

"Three weeks ago," the blonde whispered. "She'd had a brain tumor, but they removed it … the doctor said it was an aneurysm, a side effect of the illness that she knew about … but she never told us … "

"B," Faith whispered helplessly. "I'm so sorry, Buffy. So sorry. I wish I could … "

Buffy looked up at Faith, her hazel-green eyes luminous with tears, and placed her left hand flat against the glass. A moment later Faith's right hand mirrored hers and the two stared in silence, neither sure what to say but neither willing to break the connection. Understanding flowed through both women displacing anger, jealousy and other resentments until only the connection between two Slayers remained. Faith shuddered at the intensity of the power that shivered over her consciousness, flinging her back into a nightmare she'd had the previous May. One nightmare reminded her of another and she spoke, her voice piercing the silence. "B … there's trouble coming. I've been dreaming."

"So have I," Buffy responded softly. "I know what's coming … mostly, anyway."

"This is big, B," Faith whispered furiously, keeping her voice low so the guard wouldn't hear. "Bigger than the mayor, even."

Buffy only nodded. "We know, Faith."

Faith stared at Buffy, taking in her posture and the look in her eyes before it sank in. "Buffy … "

The blonde Slayer shook her head. "I know Faith, I can already feel it. We're not all coming back this time … this is so far from under control, but there's just too much at stake … "

"B," Faith pleaded. 

Buffy took a deep breath, her voice shaking as she said, "Faith … I've got to go. It's a long drive back and I can't leave Dawn … I do love you, sort of, you know … and I miss hunting with you."

"Promise me, B," Faith demanded. "Promise me you'll come back when you've kicked this thing into oblivion."

The Slayer stared at her dark sister, her other sister, and trailed her finger down the glass as she stood up. "I can't promise, Faith. Not this time."

Faith stared helplessly as Buffy gently replaced the receiver and touched the glass one last time, her hazel eyes imparting a final farewell before she turned to leave the visitation room. "Oh, B," she whispered as she felt the guard come up behind her. "Please be safe, B … first rule of Slaying. Oh, god … "

END 


	7. The Rites of May

TITLE: The Rites of May 

SERIES: Wheel of the Year

AUTHOR: Nymue

EMAIL: josette@aol.com

RATED: R (for m/f sexuality)

DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Not yours. They belong to Joss, the WB, UPN and FOX. This is a not-for-profit fanfiction. No infringement is intended. 

SUMMARY: Wherein it's Beltane Eve in Sunnydale and Buffy learns of a surprise planned by Willow and Tara.

SPOILERS: Remember, this takes place in Season 5. Set a few days before "Tough Love" and "Belonging." 

SERIES CHRONOLOGY: Follows "Equipoise." 

NOTE: Incantations and rituals adapted from "The Spiral Dance" by Starhawk, "A Witches' Bible" by Janet and Stewart Farrar and "The Encyclopedia of Celtic Wisdom" by Caitlin & John Matthews. I have taken artistic liberties (altering ritual, mixing mythology) with the celebration of Beltane in order to tell this story, but I did want this particular piece to have a strong ritualistic bent (and no one does that better than the Gardnerians) -- just with a Sunnydale twist. Please, no flames.

FEEDBACK: Is much appreciated.

***

Come with me now to the land of music,

and of soft winding primrose hair,

and bodies the color of fresh snow,

bright teeth under reddest lips.

Every neck is sweetly pink, every

body smooth, every brow dark,

every cheek like a pale foxglove.

Come with me to the land of youth.

-- Irish song to the goddess Edain

***

Spring in Sunnydale was always a site to behold. Glorious color and warmer weather settled across the landscape and urged people outdoors to frolic in the warmth of the sun. However, there was a razor sharp edge to this beauty that underlay the peace and serenity of an afternoon in Hammersmith Park, that of the forces simmering just beneath the surface. Longtime residents knew that strange things happened all the time in their not-so-quiet hamlet and late spring was usually the worst, a time when something inevitably exploded. Oh, they didn't always know exactly what had occurred, but more often than not they knew when it was over, felt the tension reach its crescendo and burst. Afterwards they all breathed a sigh of relief because that strange feeling, much like ears popping at the peak of the mountain, heralded the beginnings of a summer that was inevitably quiet and less catastrophic. However, at that moment little of this mattered to the people out enjoying the day. They were content to play and talk and have fun until the sun began its inevitable descent, so none noticed the two women laying side by side in a copse of trees.

Sunlight glinted on a dizzying array of gold and red hair that was framed by the verdant grass upon which two witches rested their heads. Their fingers were laced together as they watched the clouds overhead, neither speaking but neither needing words … only a vague hum could be heard, but only if the passerby was magickally inclined. This restful idyll was not a mere whim but rather a necessity, a much-needed respite from the magick they had worked only a few short hours before. One head lolled to the side, green eyes seeking out the gentle gray-blue of her companion. 'Are we doing the right thing?' they seemed to ask.

"It'll be fine," the blonde reassured. 

"Can we be certain? I don't want this to backfire on us."

Tara propped herself up on her elbow and studied her lover carefully. In truth, Willow's reserve made her deliriously happy because it wasn't often that Willow doubted her magick. However, she was wise enough to know that it wasn't the magick that worried her beloved, it was the entire idea. "I think it will be okay, Will. We all know Buffy needs a break, and we were careful to choose a safe place and ward it well. And we recruited Dawn to help."

"And we told Xander and Giles so they wouldn't worry," Willow finished.

"We've done everything we can for now except relax," Tara reiterated. 

Willow sighed. "And wait for nightfall."

***

"Run that by me again?" Buffy asked incredulously, unable to even begin to imagine what her friends and her sister -- her *sister* -- had planned.

"It's actually very simple," Anya stated. "Are you having a moment like the elderly people have? I heard that the disease could start at a young age, but I've never seen it -- "

"No," Willow interrupted. "Buffy does not have Alzheimer's."

Dawn rolled her eyes. "Are we doing this?"

Buffy frowned. "Would someone please explain this again? Slowly? And explain why we're here?" 

Tara looked up from her preparations and followed the Slayer's gaze, vaguely hearing Willow explain their choice of meeting place to Buffy. Of course, she realized it was to be expected that Buffy had some issues with the chosen location. She herself was not very comfortable with the mansion on Crawford Street, but it was the most secure location they could find on short notice and it cost them nothing. Points there, as Willow would say. Still, she couldn't help the occasional shiver that slid down her spine; while they had cleansed and warded the room they were using, Angel's old bedroom according to Willow, Tara still thought she felt evil in the walls. Which was entirely possible, although she doubted it was anything more than memory traces left by the sheer magnitude of the events that had transpired here in the past.

"Tara?" Willow prompted.

"What?" she responded, then flushed as she saw the eyes turned toward her. "Oh, the explanation."

Buffy gave the blonde witch a sad smile and dropped to the floor to sit in front of her, their knees not quite touching as the Slayer watched her friend make a few last minute preparations. "Is it just too complicated?" 

"N-no," Tara told her. "You need a break, just a little one to help you keep your balance … a-and this ritual could be considered the break you need."

"What … I mean, how does this work? What's Dawn got to do with this?"

"It's the Beltane ritual," Willow said softly, sinking to her knees next to her best friend and her lover. "It's about fire and fertility and hope -- "

"It's about sex," Anya interjected.

Willow shot her a dirty look.

"What?" Anya retorted. "It is. May Day, La Bealtaine, Beltane Eve or Beltane, whichever you choose, is about ritual sex. Yeah, it's for the good of the crops -- "

"The rekindling of the Need-Fire from nine different woods -- " Willow interrupted.

"The joining of the Goddess with the young God," Tara finished.

Buffy blanched, her eyes darting towards Dawn. "Um, guys … if this is about ritual sex, like last August … "

"Lughnasa," Anya helped.

"Yeah," the Slayer responded. "Should Dawn be here? I mean … "

"Oh," Tara said in realization, her eyes widening. "Oh, no, Buffy, it's nothing like that … only you will be involved."

"Huh?" this came from Buffy and Dawn, both their faces covered with confused and apprehensive looks. 

"Ritual sex? Last August?" Dawn said rapidly. "Is there something I should know?"

The other four women exchanged a look, questions asked and answered within a fraction of a second. "I think this is a case of don't ask, don't tell, Dawnie," Willow answered, the teenager's eyes growing wide as she tried to both imagine and ignore the scenario that was playing out in her mind.

"Still … " Buffy started.

"It won't be real," Tara explained. "You'll be in a trance state which is where the ritual s-sex comes in."

"Astral sex," Anya said bluntly.

"Who am I supposed to … " Buffy's voice trailed off, her unspoken question hanging in the air like the sword of Damocles. 

Willow shifted. "He'll come to you."

"What?"

"You'll see people, Buffy, probably the men in your life," Tara continued. "But only one will kill the stag king and thus take his place."

"Stags?" Buffy sounded bewildered.

Tara placed a reassuring hand atop the Slayer's trembling knees. "Just remember -- you'll know, and so will he. While only the successful hunter will find his way to you, you'll have to consider them all, place them in your life. Those left … the ones who are n-not family … they'll hunt, but only one can win."

"Win?"

"You'll be the embodiment of the Goddess," Willow clarified. "The King Stag embodies the Oak King, the God … supposedly, in older times, every year the fiercest hunter would hunt the alpha stag in the forest and the winner symbolically became the King Stag, the God, and, uh … "

"Mates with the Goddess, or the woman embodying the Goddess," Anya finished.

"Only you'll be doing it in a trance," Willow added hastily. 

Buffy chewed on her lip and nodded. In truth, it didn't sound any worse than some of the other rituals in which she had taken part over the past few months and, even when painful, the results, the catharsis, had been worth the trouble. Even the idea of embodying the Goddess didn't seem all that odd, especially with a hell-god in town … strange to think of it that way, but it made a peculiar sort of sense. Who was to say what made a goddess? Only … 

"Is this safe?"

Willow and Tara both nodded. "We cleansed the room and warded the entire house," Willow told her. "And we made sure that the wards were strong but fusible -- "

"Fusible?"

"Natural," Tara explained. "The wards are fused into the house itself, into the land around it, like they were here all along. Unless you knew otherwise, you wouldn't guess the wards were new."

"So anything we do here is safe," Willow finished.

"Wasn't that hard? I mean, that level of warding … it's stronger than the spell to revoke a vampire's invitation, isn't it? I remember Giles telling me about a town that was warded even though vampires had lived inside once … "

The two witches exchanged glances and Anya looked up, eyes widening as she realized what had been done. "You set wards into the ground the house sits on," she said slowly. "Even if the house is gone the ground is safe and so is anything else that's built later … Buffy's right, that strong -- *really* strong -- magick. How did the two of you manage it?"

Tara fidgeted for a moment and Willow shrugged. "Well … we only sort of did it … we're safe here for tonight and tomorrow, but not after. We weren't strong enough to make the fused wards permanent, so in twenty-four hours they'll just dissolve. Until then, though … "

"This place is essentially sacred ground, naturally sacred ground to anyone who doesn't know better," Anya finished. "That's … impressive."

Buffy exhaled the breath she's been holding, her worry over Dawn's safety easing enough to allow her to contemplate the ritual in which she was being asked to participate. Still, there was the Dawn issue. "And Dawn?"

Tara stirred from her place. "She's here to take your place in the circle because you can't do both."

"Oh … "

"It's perfectly safe, Buffy, you know that," Willow reminded.

"I know, I know … I guess it's okay … "

Tara smiled. "Then we should get started."

They stood and all but Tara and Buffy left the room as the Slayer turned to the witch and raised her eyebrows, confusion and wariness obvious in her hazel-green orbs. Tara smiled gently and tried to put the Slayer at ease, "Although we're adapting this ritual, there are still a few smaller parts that must be observed."

"Such as?"

Tara's voice faltered for a second before she was able to continue, her stutter a bit more pronounced than it had been in months. "I-I need you t-to undress," she started. "There a-are some s-symbols th-th-that have to b-be … i-if you would r-rather Willow did this … "

Buffy's eyes widened with surprise. Until now, none of the rituals they had performed had required anything so ceremonial, so tradition bound; most of the time it was more an observance with a bit symbolism or custom to highlight the overall meaning. It was startling, then, to hear that this particular instance required more elaborate preparations. Did it bother her, she wondered vaguely. The answer wasn't so much of a shock as the reason; no, she realized, it didn't bother her at all, but not because she was worried about the implications. That this ritual required bodily preparations did worry the Slayer, but she felt at ease for the simple reason that she trusted the blonde witch before her. In fact, Buffy was startled by the realization that she trusted Tara to do this correctly … 

And that she didn't trust Willow.

Not that she didn't trust her best friend's magick, she quickly amended. On the battlefield or in research she trusted the redhead unequivocally, but she simply did not trust Willow to prepare her correctly for this experience. Moreover, having Tara prepare her seemed right on a fundamental level, as if this was more than what it appeared on the surface. The unexpected memory of her experience with the First Slayer flashed in her mind and Buffy was suddenly struck with the realization that perhaps her dream had been telling her something else when it picked Tara to speak for the Primal. A simple look into Tara's eyes showed Buffy that the blonde seemed to know or sense this as well, but that she was willing to bow out if Buffy was uncomfortable. 

"Tara, no," Buffy whispered as she reached out to clutch the other woman's hands. "I trust you … I trust you to do this. I want *you* to do this."

Tara simply nodded. "A-alright. I need you to undress … everything, even jewelry."

"Okay," Buffy exhaled, pulling her shirt over her head as she toed off her shoes. She shimmied out of her pants and the bikinis before unhooking the bra that landed on top of the pile of clothes, tilting her head to unfasten her earrings and kneeling down to stuff them in her pants pocket. Then she stood in a fluid motion, pulling her hair loose from its clasp and dropping it on the pile as she faced the witch.

"Now what?"

"Now I start here," Tara told her softly, brushing her fingertips along the Slayer's forehead. Buffy shivered slightly when a draft in the room passed over the paste left behind by the witch's fingers and gasped as she felt the area begin to warm ever so slightly. Her breath caught as Tara's fingers trailed across her face and down her throat, gently but firmly leaving a trail of dark colored markings.

Buffy felt herself floating in her skin as Tara continued her ministrations, a feeling that was not euphoric but was most assuredly calming slowly spiraling through her blood and leaving her helpless in the witch's hands. However, unlike other instances in her life Buffy did not fear her sudden lack of control, quite the contrary. For the first time in ages the Slayer felt safe and loved, her all encompassing trust in the witch allowing her to simply let go of her burdens and responsibilities for a short time. Which was not to say she could not feel, she thought, for she felt each stroke and touch as clearly as the first, but the feel was … different. Similar to that of a mother caring for her child but not quite. No, not mother and child, she realized as she felt Tara's fingers slide between her thighs and press against her sex before continuing down her thighs. Yet there was no desire, no passion, just the feeling of … 

Mentor, Buffy's mind supplied as Tara painted the backs of her legs, mentor and student. Which made sense as it was Tara who typically took the lead during their rituals although it was Willow who more often used her power on the battlefield. After a fashion, Tara had become her mentor to the ways and means of magick. Oh, yes, Giles had definitely had a hand in her training, but it had been the soft-spoken woman who had explained and illustrated and gently prodded the Slayer's burgeoning understanding of the metaphysical forces. 

A voice on the edge of her consciousness laughed, surprising Buffy and jolting her slightly from her warm cocoon. No, she whispered, not mentor. Priestess. Priestess and Initiate. 

Buffy was more startled than threatened by this seeming intrusion and cast out her senses, finding that the voice that had spoken came from within. How curious, she thought as she felt Tara moving away. Perhaps it was simply the scattered pieces of her training pulling together to supply a much needed answer … or maybe it was the essence of the Slayer reminding her that there was still much to learn.

"So mote it be."

Buffy thought Tara's voice sounded shaky, but was distracted almost immediately as she began to feel a new type of warmth even as the calming buffer slowly slid away and left her once more aware of the world around her. For her part, Tara looked slightly astonished, as if she hadn't known she was capable of what she had just accomplished. When Willow and the others entered the room a few moments later their faces also reflected surprise and astonishment. Dawn's startled gasp echoed in the cavernous room and drowned out the audible responses from her two companions.

Willow's eyes widened as she took in the change in her best friend. Dark reddish-brown runes and other symbols covered every inch of the Slayer's body, her creamy skin merely the canvas upon which Tara had created a magickal masterpiece. Buffy seemed to glow in the low light, radiance personified, and Willow shook her head slightly in order to see more clearly the details that adorned the Slayer's flesh. The runes she easily and quickly comprehended along with most of the symbols, but there were one or two decorations that she could not remember seeing even in the oldest tomes that Giles kept carefully tucked away. Or rather, she had no knowledge of the symbols although she clearly remembered them from her First Slayer dream a year earlier. A sideways glance at her lover confirmed that the blonde was also unaware of the origins of the symbols, but felt that they were not only innocuous but somehow right for the occasion. 

"Wow," she whispered.

Buffy chewed on her lip for a moment. "Is it …?"

"Buffy," Dawn murmured, her voice awestruck. "You're … you look beautiful … "

Anya tilted her head and gazed at the Slayer then shrugged. "It's a look I wouldn't have thought of for you, but it works."

Willow turned to the former demon with a question on her lips but Anya simply shook her head. "Not sure," was all she would whisper. 

Dawn spared the two a glance while Tara settled Buffy in the center of the circle. "Not sure about what?"

The two exchanged a glance. "It's nothing to worry about, Dawnie," Willow soothed. "We were just trying to catalogue all the symbols, you know, see if we knew them all, that sort of thing."

"Do you?"

"We've seen them all before," Anya answered evasively.

"Oh … "

Tara interrupted. "Are you ready?"

The three nodded and quickly took their places, Dawn sitting in the East to replace the void left by her sister. Despite yearning for this moment for ages Dawn found herself more than a little nervous; she had always believed that she would be able to participate in these rituals one day, but she had never thought that her first time would be something this big. Oh, granted, Tara had explained that there were more elaborate or emotionally draining rituals -- and why had she looked that way when she mentioned that? -- but Dawn still felt unsettled. If nothing else, it was way wiggy that her sister was reclining on pillows in front of her nude and covered in all sorts of symbols and other markings. Oh no, no pressure there. No pressure at all.

Nervously, Dawn dipped her fingers into the cup of water that sat in front of her and flicked the droplets into the air. "Welcome our minds to you essence, Air, and grant us your dominion and protection." 

Anya took the cup from Dawn and repeated her actions. "Welcome our hearts to your essence, Fire, and grant us your dominion and protection." 

The cup next passed to Willow, who scattered water and chanted, "Welcome our lives to your essence, Water, and grant us your dominion and protection." 

Willow passed the water to Tara. "Welcome our bodies to your essence, Earth, and grant us your dominion and protection." With the last of the water scattered, Tara spoke once more, "The circle is cast. We are between the worlds, beyond the bounds of time, where night and day, birth and death, joy and sorrow, meet as one. We gather tonight to celebrate the union of Our Lady, the Maiden of Spring and the Oak King, the Lord of the Waxing Year, who meet in the greening fields and rejoice. The shaft of life is twined in a spiral web and all nature is renewed … we meet in the time of flowering, to dance the dance of life." 

Anya straightened her back and sprinkled sparkly dust over the brazier just slightly to her right, the pale tendrils of scented smoke curling toward the ceiling, and then extinguished the flame as she spoke. "Now listen to the words of the Great Mother; She who of old was also called among men: Artemis, Astarte, Athene, Dione, Melusine, Aphrodite, Cerridwen, Dana, Arianrhod, Isis, Bride, and by many other names." 

Leaning forward Dawn blew out the candle in front of her and replayed the words in her head one last time before she spoke. "Whenever you have need of anything, once in the month, and better it be when the moon is full, then shall ye assemble in some secret place and adore the spirit of me, who am Queen of all the Wise. There shall ye assemble, ye who are fain to learn all sorcery, yet have not won its deepest secrets; to these will I teach things that are yet unknown."

Tara gave Dawn an encouraging smile as the youngest member of the small coven gave an audible sigh of relief as she finished her part. Dawn smiled back briefly and Tara felt the strings of her heart tug slightly as she once more felt a flash of empathy for the girl, but she channeled the feelings into her words and blew out her candle. "And ye shall be free from slavery; and as a sign that ye be really free, ye shall be naked in your rites; and ye shall dance, sing, feast, make music and love, all in my praise. For mine is the ecstasy of the spirit, and mine also is joy on earth; for my law is love unto all beings. Keep pure your highest ideal; strive ever towards it; let naught stop you or turn you aside. For mine is the secret door which opens upon the Land of Youth, and mine is the cup of the wine of life, and the Cauldron of Cerridwen, which is the Holy Grail of immortality."

"I am the gracious Goddess, who gives the gift of joy unto the heart of man. Upon earth, I give the knowledge of the spirit eternal; and beyond death, I give peace, and freedom, and reunion with those who have gone before. Nor do I demand sacrifice; for behold, I am the Mother of all living, and my love is poured out upon the earth," Willow finished softly as she pinched the wick of her candle between two fingers, plunging the room into near total darkness.

Pale moonlight barely filtered through the drapes at the window but it was enough to allow Dawn to see the signal to begin her next part. She took a deep breath and repeated the lines she had learned just a few hours earlier. "I will go as wren in spring, with sorrow and sighing on silent wing, and I shall go in Our Lady's name. Aye, til I come home again."

"Then I will go as a mouse in May, in fields by night, in cellars by day, and I shall go in Our Lady's name. Aye, til I come home again," Anya continued.

"Then I shall go as an autumn hare, with sorrow and sighing and mickle care, and I shall go in Our Lady's name. Aye, til I come home again," Willow chanted.

Tara smiled. "Then I shall go as a winter trout, with sorrow and sighing and mickle doubt, and I shall go in Our Lady's name. Aye, til I come home again."

"Then we shall follow as falcons grey and hunt thee cruelly for our prey, and we shall go in the Good God's name. Aye, to fetch thee home again," Dawn finished with a smile, relief and pride etched on her features.

Anya eyes traced the path of moonlight and thought longingly of Bealtaines past as she murmured, "Then we shall follow as black tom cats and hunt thee through the corn and vats, and we shall go in the Good God's name. Aye, to fetch thee home again."

"Then we shall follow as swift greyhounds and hunt thy tracks by leaps and bounds, and we shall go in the Good God's name. Aye, to fetch thee home again," Willow recited softly.

"Then we shall follow as otters swift and snare thee fast ere thou canst shift, and we shall go in the Good God's name. Aye, to fetch thee home again," Tara whispered in closing. 

"Go in the Lady's name, Buffy, and we shall fetch thee home again … "

***

To fetch thee home again …

To fetch thee home … 

Fetch thee …

Home … 

The words echoed in Buffy's mind as she felt herself falling through nothingness, sailing on a sea of fluffy down and encased in soft linen. Their chants and feelings, the magick they had woven into their words had eased her into a peaceful tranquility that allowed her to sink into the depths of her mind and discover all the hidden facets therein. She floated on a cloud of calm but firm intentions, safe in the knowledge that her friends, her family, would see her safely home when the time was right.

After an indeterminable time she began to feel the world around her once more. Beneath her bare feet was cool, dry stone and she felt the warmth of a flickering fire on her skin as she opened her eyes to see the dark cave in which she now stood. It was large and cavernous and deep within the earth, with strange and curious paintings adorning its walls. She found it odd that as she studied the adornments that she had two different ideas about their origin and meaning; in one she remembered the words of a professor in an anthropology class she had taken on a whim and the other … In the other she felt the knowledge of the artists themselves, the ones who had made these paintings. Indeed, Buffy tilted her head to the side as she realized that she now knew more than when she had started. It was as if the mysteries and their penultimate meanings had been imprinted on her soul, as if she was the beginning and the end of the universe.

And in a way she was, she realized. 

A voice shivered through her, reminding Buffy of the reasons she had been brought to the womb of the earth. She shook her head and stepped closer to the fire as she stretched out her arms and tossed back her head. "Come," she whispered. "Come to me now."

No sound was heard but she knew when the air shifted that they had arrived, the men to whom she had called. Young and old, short and tall, each came as summoned and the air thickened as she gazed across the fire and allowed her eyes and mind to trace the features of those assembled. Names and titles sprang to mind as well as emotions and she sadly acknowledged the truth in front of her, truths she had known for years but been unable to face for fear of being hurt or hurting others.

The wraiths floated in the cavernous room, their filmy transparent forms illuminated by the firelight … not ghosts or manifestations created by her brain for this moment but souls, living souls who had heard her summons and journeyed to this place in curiosity or obligation or love or through the sheer force of her will. A face swam before her eyes and she felt equal amounts of anger and sadness -- anger that he not only abandoned her mother, but that he constantly abandoned her and Dawn for his own selfish insecurities. Yet sadness remained, a sadness borne of a love once shared and the certain knowledge that 'what might have been' would have been beautiful. Sire, she finally acknowledged as she released his spirit back to the mortal world, for he had never truly been a father to her or anyone else.

The next face to fill her view had kind green eyes and her heart sang with love as it named and placed her true father, the one who had cared and loved her as her sire never would. Giles' spirit danced along the edges of the fire as though trying to help her face even this and she sighed, cupping his essence to her heart before releasing him to return to his dreams. In this she neither needed nor wanted any assistance for she finally understood the depths of the mystery, but she loved him dearly for wanting to ease her burden. 

An insubstantial chuckle sang through the air and Buffy smiled once more as Xander's face floated closer. Through all the turmoil and chaos that was her life he had stood fast, her White Knight … her companion and friend … her brother. Yes, brother. She carefully searched through his spirit looking for traces of a love once considered much different than the one he professed today and discovered naught more than fond memories, and beyond that a blinding love for the woman to whom he hoped to pledge his heart and life. Buffy hugged his soul to her own once more and then watched with happiness as he drifted off to his rejoin his beloved.

Another wraith danced along the fire's edge demanding her attention and she stared for a long moment until Wesley's face became clear. Ah, yes, her other Watcher, the one whom she had ignored and belittled because she had thought him a pointless waste of time that was trying come between her and her true father. Buffy closed her eyes as she slipped into his soul and marveled at the man he had become since then, one who was more self-assured but still seeking his ultimate place and purpose in life. In sadness she pulled away as she contemplated this near stranger, but a burst of affection shattered her melancholy as she remembered that his current place was at Angel's side. He was still Watcher despite whatever anyone thought, only now his ward was a much maligned and scarred Warrior who needed his influence. Still a Watcher, she mused as she trailed her fingers through his essence, just as her true father remained a Watcher. Uncle, she whispered as she pressed a farewell kiss to his insubstantial cheek, for he was the true brother to her true father. 

A group of wraiths pushed closer to the Slayer and she watched them curiously for a moment, recognizing that a tiny part of Buffy was surprised at their presence. These were those along the fringes of her existence, those who had touched her briefly but had left lasting impressions as she sailed through life. She traced a shock of dark hair and smiled at the soul of her old friend Pike, memories fond and terrible coming to the fore as she considered his presence. In doing so she turned to the others and felt sorrow and guilt, for here were those who had tried and failed -- the souls of Owen, Scott and Parker. Here were those who in the end were nothing but pawns, she thought sadly. They had had little impact on her other than to cause her guilt so she waved them away, trusting that they would find their own ways home.

As the last of the wraiths crept closer she thought about the ones who had come before and was amused at how similar they were to the pieces of a chess set. While she could not position her sire, the others had their place on the board of her life: Giles as her Bishop, Wesley and Xander as her Knights and the most recently departed as Pawns. It was in this frame of mind that she greeted the four remaining souls, four men who had touched her life and fought beside her and even loved her in their own unique ways. Worthy Knights all, but only one could be King to her Queen. Her beloved Angel, who even now sought to walk through the fire to reach her, he whose soul tugged at her own, stood before her in all his glory. Beside him her other lover, Riley, the one who had abandoned her when the world became too much … yet it was he who had tried and loved despite her inability to give all. Then there were the others, the two to whom she had not shared her body but rather her life. Spike had no soul to send so his wraith was made up of all the conflicting bundles of emotions that simmered beneath his arrogant surface, that mixture of all-too-human feeling and demonic possessiveness fueling his spirit. And then there was Oz, once her best friend's mate, the werewolf who had hunted with the Slayer and protected the pack when she could not. That he, too, had left them was of no consequence; young wolves occasionally wished to prove their prowess by hunting alone and she understood the need of the man to reconcile with the beast.

These then were the hunters; she studied them all closely, assessing their desire to join the Great Hunt. All were willing, albeit some more than others. A smile formed on her lips as she extended her essence towards theirs, mingling a tiny bit of her soul with those of her hunters as an illustration of what she was. Each moved as if to merge with her but were unable to cross the flickering fire and were burned, scorched by the tantalizing preview of what awaited the successful hunter. "To join with me you must hunt," she whispered. "Hunt in the forests for he who is king of all stags, for he who slays the beast will be King Stag and join me in rekindling the flames."

Buffy watched as the wraiths disappeared one by one, each seeking the forests of the stags and the kill that would return the hunter to her arms. Once each was gone she again gazed upon the paintings in the cave before turning her attention to the fire, and from nowhere came the sand that she poured upon the flames. Smoke curled in dark after the flames were extinguished and she peered into the near total dark in search of her path, the knowledge of which came suddenly to her mind as if she had merely misplaced a well-known fact. Tendrils of pale light that was ever brightening guided her footsteps along the cool stone, but soon she felt dust and dirt beneath her feet and the crisp scent of pure air filled her nose as the tributaries of light coalesced into a shadowy ball. 

When she stepped through the entrance to the cave Buffy found herself in a large grassy clearing at the foot of a mountain. The light from a full moon illuminated the circle of stones that she found herself approaching and the tall megaliths seemed to dance in the darkness to a tune far older than anything she could imagine … but then, she again realized she had no need to imagine anything. In some inexplicable way she knew everything about this place -- its position, its power, its creators and its purpose. She knew why she was here and why it was here and why their purposes were one and the same. 

Voices shivered over her skin as she passed between two of the megaliths and approached the center of the circle. Their voices were old and wise but cautious, untrusting of those who entered and answering only to those whom they deemed acceptable. 'Who are you to enter this place?' they whispered in the breezes that blew between the stones.

Buffy shuddered as she heard the voices -- if they could be considered so -- question her presence. They sounded like shards of broken glass shattering further as they bounced on a marble surface, hard and sharp and merciless. The Slayer was for an instant unable to respond but in the next, as with everything else in this place, she knew that her surety and purpose would not anger these spirits, which were hers to command.

"I am the beauty of the green earth and the white moon among the stars and the mysteries of the waters," Buffy called out to the voices. "I call upon your soul to arise and come unto me. For I am the soul of nature that gives life to the universe. From Me all things proceed and unto Me they must return. Let my worship be in the heart that rejoices, for behold -- all acts of love and pleasure are My rituals. Let there beauty and strength, power and compassion, honor and humility, mirth and reverence within you. And you who seek to know Me, know that your yearning and seeking will avail you not, unless you know the Mystery: for if that which you seek you find not within yourself, you will never find it without. For behold, I have been with you from the beginning, and I am that which is attained at the end of desire."

As Buffy finished her speech she felt rather than heard the spirits cease their shrieking questions and felt instead the weight of their knowledge press upon her soul. They whispered to her of the stags in the forest and of the brave warriors who were hunting them in hopes of finding the king of the beasts and she hummed tunelessly, her mind stretching out to touch those fearless hunters. Each brush of her soul against their spirits emboldened the hunter in question to new heights of bravery or simply more determination, and she reveled in the feelings that this aroused in her. For so long Buffy had felt abandoned and unloved … now they were hunting to join her because they wanted to be with her, to love her. This warmed her from the inside out although she knew without being told that this was, if not a dream or other similar construct, still not a part of any earthly reality. Here they were in time out of time, a place outside the mortal realms, and once they left this sacred ground they would be able to recall only fragments of what they had experienced.

She was so absorbed in listening to the voices whisper in the stones and touching the hunters that their sudden disappearance from her reach startled the Slayer. Her mind stretched out a split second later and could feel but one soul, whose she did not know, and in that moment she quickly realized what had happened. The voices confirmed this merely seconds later and Buffy's entire being was oddly both calm and anxious. Her worry over who would present himself as King Stag was borne of her mortal feelings about love and propriety and thus had no place here, yet they lingered. They were as much a part of her as the part that knew what was to come, so she cast out her feelings and accepted the amalgam of pieces that in this place were made into a new whole. 

The voices suddenly became a flurry of sound and the tension in the air rose once more and as she turned in a circle to see what caused the commotion her eyes beheld a wraith approaching the stones from the South. Even now she was not sure who would join her here in this place, only that he would be worthy of not only her but of her Lady as well. The thought jostled her away from the contemplation of the successful hunter and into an internal perusal; as the embodiment of the Goddess, where did she end and begin? What separated her from the Lady and the Slayer? 

An answering warmth stole over her and the scents of honey and daffodils filled her nose. She sighed in remembrance; again, it was as if she had simply misplaced her knowledge, for she quickly remembered that there was no difference at all. Here all things were made whole and so she was all and everything, beginning and end. She was whole and there was no division of parts, there had never been a difference -- she had simply never understood the union before now.

This slight internal issue once more resolved, she turned her attention the voices and to the wraith that now stood just outside the circle. He stood tall in the face of the shrieking sounds that came from the bansidhe that haunted the stones and walked forward, his form taking shape as he passed through the stones. Buffy's breath caught as she watched him take form from the spirit he had been and for the first time noticed her own form. She was still painted with runes, but now her head and shoulders were somehow draped in gold and bronze and her hair was wound around her head in thousands of tiny braids. It should have felt as heavy as the antlers on her approaching companion yet neither felt their weight.

He stopped nearly six feet away from her but she could not discern his features for the antlers and the skin of the stag -- his trophies and the symbols of his station -- obscured her view. It was only as he spoke that she suddenly knew who her consort was and her heart beat wildly in her chest as she awaited the decision of the guardians of the stones. 

"I am a stag of the seven tines," he decreed. "I am a wide flood on a plain … I am a wind on the deep waters … I am a shining tear of the sun … I am a hawk on a cliff … I am fair among flowers … I am a god who sets the head afire with smoke."

Buffy's heart pounded wildly in anticipation and longing as the stag skin slid down Angel's shoulders to reveal his broad chiseled chest. He looked straight at her when he spoke again, his voice more easily heard as the wailing questions of the bansidhe dwindled in volume. "I am not a phantom and I am not a spectre. I have come after death to be honored by you, and I am of the race of Adam. My name is Lug, son of Ethniu, son of Smretha, son of Tigernmar, son of Faelu, son of Etheor, son of Irial, son of Erimon, son of Mil of Spain. Here, now, by the antlers that I claim … I am King Stag."

The silence of the voices was deafening and the tension that had swirled in the air suddenly collapsed upon itself leaving the two in a vacuum. Buffy marveled at the subtle changes in him now that she could once more feel the pull of his soul; his carriage was as erect as it had been when he was Angelus but with none of the arrogance and hate that had been its accompaniment. His eyes were still that gentle loving brown, but the ever-present wildness seemed deepened now that he embodied the God. Which is why the pull she felt was even stronger, she realized. It was no longer the pull of two souls or needs of Slayer and Vampire but the long anticipated and ancient union of the Goddess and her God. 

Buffy stretched out her arms and Angel stepped forward once more, removing the helmet of antlers and sinking to his knees before her. Heat raced through her as he pressed his mouth to her sex and laved the tender flesh with his tongue, passion curling through her and lodging not in her loins but in her soul. His eyes lifted to meet hers and his voice rasped, "Assist me to erect the ancient altar, at which in days past all worshipped … the great altar of all things, for in old time Woman was the altar … "

Ardor filled her soul as he began to speak the words to commence the Great Rite but she was above needing such trivialities. He was her Consort, the Chosen, the successful hunter who had become the King Stag for this night, and they needed no such words between them for they were the reasons the words existed between those on the mortal plain. "The altar is erect," she whispered. "Worship me."

Angel nodded and reached out to steady her as she sank to her knees, their faces only inches apart when she closed the gap by sliding her lips over his in a kiss to seal the mutual understanding between them. The shudders that tore through his soul intensified as she lay back in the fragrant grass with her knees bent and spread wide, allowing him to glimpse that she was indeed completely covered with runes and symbols. The primal power called to him as he curled his knees beneath his body and stretched out to fondle the delicate folds of her sex, his mouth seeking out that which would give her pleasure.

"Altar of mysteries manifold," Angel whispered as he caressed soft lips dewed with a woman's most intimate honey, unable to stop the words from leaving his mouth although he knew they were not needed. "The sacred Circle's center point -- thus do I sign thee as of old, with kisses of my lips anoint. Open for me the secret way, the pathway of intelligence, beyond the gates of night and day, beyond the bounds of time and sense. Behold the mystery aright … "

She tossed her head and moaned as he nuzzled his way among her most sensitive mound, the heat in her loins feeding the unending and ever growing power that was forming within her soul. Her body was wracked with spasms as his lips closed over the seat of her fleshly desire and she shuddered in ecstasy, falling a thousand times through a pleasure so large and fulfilling that for a moment she wondered if this would be enough. The power was rapidly expanding, pulsating and pressing against its cage but unable to break through. Their desire was so perfectly matched, so fused, one to the other that she felt herself soar on wings of molten heat and gaze upon a thousand of her pleasures as he once more worried her tender pearl until she rode the crest of the wave of passion until it crashed upon the shore. 

Buffy gasped as she opened her eyes to the starry sky. Each climax fed the throbbing power that was centered in their souls but she knew that more was needed, that only the ultimate union of body and soul would create the wondrous marriage of their separated selves. With the beat of their power echoing in her ears she reached for him again, drawing him up her body until their lips met in a smoldering kiss that scorched her very soul and ricocheted through their link into his. The result was a deepening kiss, one that opened the doors to the primal energy burning deep within his core and she arched beneath him to urge him on to the ultimate union.

"Here where the Lance and Grail unite, and feet and knees and breast and lip," he murmured as the craving simply became too much. 

He groaned into her mouth as he gave in, sinking into her moist heat with an eagerness that overshadowed any previous pleasures and any yet to come. Buffy let out a guttural cry when was again sheathed within her, unable to remember when she had last felt this whole. Then he moved and pleasure of their union altered to become a true joining, a merger of souls and power as they slipped into one another and delighted at the love and trust and power that they discovered. Hot primal need flared as they approached the peak of their desire, and as they tumbled together from the heights of sheer ecstasy in a blazing ball of fire they were suddenly one being finally made whole. As the import of this marriage took root they felt the power trying to erupt from deep within themselves and so they pushed it outwards, away from their souls.

The power flew out towards the circle's edge but was caught by the ancient megaliths and transformed as it was flung inward once more. Streaks of fire stretched out from each of the tall stones and traveled toward the center, slamming together and mingling around the two lovers finally made whole. Buffy screamed as the flames consumed them, as they fed the fire with their passion and desire and tumbled once more into a sea of rapture while flames climbed higher and higher, urging the mated pair onwards and upwards … 

*** 

When Buffy opened her eyes she was surprised to find herself in the smoky darkness of the mansion surrounded by her sister and her friends and not in the stone circle with Angel. As Tara and Willow helped her up into a sitting position she still felt as if the whole experience had been real although she knew she had -- physically, at least -- never left the room. The entire situation was surreal.

"Buffy?" Dawn asked tentatively. "Are you … okay?"

The Slayer turned to answer her sister and simply stared for a moment, unable to understand why the girl wasn't responding when she realized that she had to use her voice to do so. She shook her head slightly and opened her mouth and tried to clear her throat but found it so parched that she hacked into her hand until Tara gave her a cup of juice. Several sips later she felt immeasurably better; not only could she clear her throat but the juice also seemed to restore her energy level. Oh yes, she had still felt euphoric and energized upon waking, but she knew once she sat up that she was so weak that she would be unable to stand. Now, however, she was beginning to feel much more like herself; she turned to her sister and gave her a slight smile. "I'm okay … just a bit shaky still, I guess."

Anya snorted. "I'm not surprised, considering that you -- "

Willow shot Anya a dark look and spoke through clenched teeth. "Anya … "

"What? You don't think she should -- "

"No, I don't."

"I don't know, Willow, I think maybe she should … " Tara began.

"Know what?" Buffy straightened and looked at three women who suddenly seemed to be looking anywhere but at her. "What happened that has you so wigged?"

There was silence in the dark room until Dawn finally broke it in a small voice. "You were … Buffy, you were, well, floating in the air! And then you started to move around like you were in pain or something … "

"You orgasmed in midair," Anya stated bluntly. "Repeatedly."

Buffy was oddly surprised. "Really? Huh … I thought … "

When the Slayer turned towards her Tara bit her lip and tried to think of how to phrase what she needed to say, but she finally gave in a used as few words as possible. "You shouldn't … I mean th-that shouldn't have happened. Buffy, I've seen this done before, more than once, a-and no one ever levitated much less … I just don't know why."

Willow shook her head when Buffy turned questioning eyes to her. "Don't ask me either, Buffy. I only saw this done for the first time last year and there was no floating. Big lack of floating and, well, orgasming too."

"It was way weird," Dawn told her. "But kinda cool in a really gross way."

Tara still looked deeply disturbed. "Maybe we should check the spell again, Will … maybe we missed something."

"Maybe it was the Hellmouth," Dawn offered.

"No," Anya shook her head before looking down to study her nails. "It wasn't the Hellmouth and it wasn't the spell … well, it was, but not really -- "

"You know?" Willow sounded affronted. "And you didn't tell us?"

Anya shrugged. "You were too busy trying to get us to agree not to say anything to hear me."

Buffy raised a hand before the bickering could begin and looked at Anya with curiosity in her eyes. They might not always get along but Anya had been right in the past and she had been around a lot longer than anyone else in the room, so Buffy thought it was important to hear her out. Especially considering the state of Sunnydale these days. "Anya … what happened, no … how do you know?"

Anya locked eyes with the Slayer. "How much do you remember?"

Buffy opened her mouth to say that she remembered everything but the words would not come. Scant seconds passed as she grappled with her mind, desperately reaching for the memories of that luscious experience of sheer knowing, of the glorious union with Angel in the circle of … What was it a circle of? Was there a circle? What had happened? She licked her lips and finally shook her head. "I ... I don't really remember much of anything," she whispered. "I feel like I should because something happened there with Angel, but it just keeps slipping away, like … " she trailed off, unable to finish.

Tara and Willow looked alarmed. "You should remember everything," Tara frowned.

But Anya simply nodded, as if Buffy's words had confirmed her suspicion. "That's typical."

"Typical of what?" Dawn asked.

"A true Bealtaine experience," she told them. "Tara's right, most of the time people remember everything that happens because it's pretty much just astral projection and mild hallucination."

"So, why am I the exception?" Buffy questioned.

Anya shrugged. "Sometimes, though, it really happens. People actually tune into a higher frequency and actually live the Great Rite along with the gods. I've seen it a time or two before."

"So, you're saying that there was … " Willow trailed off.

"Divine intervention?" Anya supplied. 

"Yeah, that."

The former demon simply nodded.

"B-but why?" Dawn sputtered. 

"Who knows their reasons?" Anya asked in reply.

"Buffy's the Slayer," Tara said softly, her eyes widening as realization dawned. "A-and you said you were with Angel, right?"

Buffy nodded, blushing although she had no clear memory.

"And he's a Warrior, too, right? *Their* Warrior?"

She nodded again.

"You think because they're always fighting … " Willow started.

"That the Powers gave them a break?" Tara finished. "It does make sense."

Anya appeared to contemplate this for a moment and then she, too, nodded. "Yes, that makes sense."

Buffy, however, was growing frustrated. "Okay, say it happened because of what you're saying … Still, why don't I remember? Will he remember?"

Everyone turned to look at Anya, who hesitated for a moment and then shook her head. "He won't remember either."

"Why? Why don't we remember?" 

Anya sighed. "You were part of the Goddess, Buffy, and Angel was obviously part of the God, and I would have paid good money to see him -- "

Buffy scowled.

"Anyway," Anya continued. "For that time you experienced perfect euphoria and you knew *everything* about the world and each other. You literally merged with the Goddess; you became her and she became you. No human soul -- no matter if she's a Slayer and he's a vampire -- can handle that once they're fully returned to the mortal plain. It would be too much, you'd never be able to focus because you'd be too busy trying to replicate the experience even though you'd never be able to."

"Hence the forgetfulness," Willow mused.

Buffy sighed. "Welcome to the World of Not Remembering."

"L-look at it this way, Buffy," Tara soothed. "You know you had an incredible experience with Angel, something no one else can ever hope to touch. Isn't that enough?"

"I suppose," she whispered. "I guess it has to be, huh?"

"Yeah," Willow said as she squeezed Buffy's hand. 

"Is that why Buffy, uh, you know … " Dawn trailed off meaningfully.

"Yes," Anya replied. "She was still tethered to her body and so whatever her soul felt was transferred to her body as well … and it must have been amazing. Even the others that I've seen didn't orgasm as many times as Buffy did."

"Uh … thanks. I think."

Anya shrugged. "Just so you know."

They lapsed into silence for a moment and then opened the circle. Willow helped Buffy to her feet, and the Slayer quickly ascertained that the rush of energy she'd felt upon awakening had returned. The result was a feeling of near invincibility, as if she could conquer any task or go for hours without stopping to rest or refuel her body. In fact, she was so anxious to get going that she was surprised when Dawn caught her arm and offered her the clothes she'd removed earlier. She frowned at the garments for a moment and then looked over at Tara.

The blonde witch shrugged. "I don't mind, so if no one else cares … "

"Nudity is natural," Anya stated. 

"But we're going outside!" Dawn exclaimed. "You know, where people can *see* you?"

Buffy was about to tell her sister that she didn't really care about being seen in the nude tonight, but was cut off by Willow's words. "Nope, not to worry, Dawnie."

"Huh?"

"Willow?" Tara queried curiously.

"I put a teeny tiny glamour on after we warded the place," she grinned. "Anyone who walks by will just see the old mansion, and they won't hear anything either."

Anya's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Darn tootin'." 

At this, Anya stripped down and flounced out the door with Buffy to the sound of a stuttering Dawn, who followed them incredulously. Willow grinned even wider as she pulled her shirt over her head and glanced at her lover, whose face had been suddenly transformed into an unreadable mask. "What's wrong, baby?" she asked as she sashayed towards the blonde. "Why do you look so … " 

Tara mind was screaming at her to tell Willow what she thought about the other's continual use of deeper and more questionable magick, but her heart and her soul all but melted as the redhead finished undressing and pressed their lips together. Such sweet passion swept through her then that she simply capitulated and opened her mouth, her hands somehow finding their way to her lover's hips and drawing Willow closer. Fingers twined in her hair and then caressed her bare back as Willow pulled the intrusive garment away, pressing their flesh together as she trailed kisses down her beloved's throat. A mock cry of outrage caused Willow to pull away and smile lazily as she backed towards the door. "You're overdressed for the occasion," she whispered huskily.

Her mind was still nagging about the issue but Tara brushed it aside for the moment. Later, she promised as she shed her clothes and prepared to join the others outside at the Maypole. Later she would raise the issue of magick with Willow and prayed that the other witch would listen. But for now … 

"C'mon," she nudged the lounging redhead. "We've got a Need-Fire to rekindle."

END


	8. The Longest Day

TITLE: The Longest Day

SERIES: Wheel of the Year

AUTHOR: Nymue

EMAIL: josette@aol.com

RATED: PG13 

DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Not yours. They belong to Joss, the WB, UPN and FOX. This is a not-for-profit fanfiction. No infringement is intended. 

SUMMARY: Buffy's dead. Welcome to the World of Not Coping.

SPOILERS: Post "The Gift" and "There's No Place Like Plrtz Glrb."

SERIES CHRONOLOGY: Follows "The Rites of May." 

NOTE: Incantations and rituals adapted from "The Spiral Dance" by Starhawk and "A Witches' Bible" by Janet and Stewart Farrar.

FEEDBACK: Is much appreciated.

***

Cover the earth four times with flowers.

Cover the sky with banks of clouds.

Cover the earth with fog.

Cover the earth with rain.

Let lightning cover the earth.

Let thunder cover the earth.

Let great rain cover the earth.

Let thunder be heard on the face of my mother.

-- Southwestern American rain invocation

***

June 18, 2001 -- Sunnydale

The flowers were wilting.

Dawn came to this conclusion as she traced the lettering on her sister's tombstone for the sixteenth time that day, her eyes following the curves of the inscriptions and only vaguely noticing the flowers. It had been Xander's idea, of course; only he would be the one to come up with 'she saved the world a lot' and put it on Buffy's grave marker. Had Giles been more coherent the inscription would no doubt have read 'once in every generation' … and possibly in Latin. Not that it mattered; no saying could possibly condense her sister's life. Not even a million words could pay homage to all her sister had been and yet she still lingered over the words, unable to look away. 

She finally closed her eyes and when she opened them she had tilted her head away from the gravestone. This was when she saw how the heat had wilted the flowers that wreathed the stone, and she lifted one of the pale pink roses from its arrangement and allowed the petals to float to the ground. These would need to be replaced, she thought and placed it on her to-do list. However, assessing the state of the flowers was not the reason for her visit.

"Dawn?"

At first Tara wasn't sure if Dawn had heard her call. The girl seemed absorbed in her vigil, one she had kept after her summer school classes every day since they had buried Buffy. It had rained that day, the skies opening to unleash a torrent of rain that turned the normally soft and dry ground to a swamp and then to quagmire. As if the gods themselves were weeping and wailing, Tara reflected. She hadn't been completely there herself but she remembered the rain. Oh, yes, she remembered the rain because it seemed as if it would never stop pounding the town atop the Hellmouth; nearly three whole days of a steady, almost torrential downpour that threatened to flood the town proper and did flood the lower regions. If nothing else it had kept the population -- human and demon -- indoors and out of trouble and allowed the survivors to regroup and mourn. 

And mourn they had, each in their own unique way. Although she had been confused and in shock she had noticed Anya's continual cleaning and the way Giles had climbed inside a bottle once the funeral was over, a bottle he had not emerged from until Willow returned from Los Angeles with the tall dark vampire who had sat on his knees before her grave -- in the rain -- until false dawn one night. Tara wondered if he would have watched the sunrise had it not been for Dawn, who had slipped away from the others and found him in the cemetery and told him something, something that forced him to take shelter with Giles until the sun had set the next day. After his departure Willow had found Spike and Xander and dragged them on a patrol, as much for her own sake as for Dawn's, who had been helping unpack the things from the room she and Willow had shared. 

After that the pattern seemed to establish itself rather quickly, she thought wryly. The days dragged by and the nights seemed never ending but the routine came quickly and easily to the fragmented group. Xander took Dawn to school and she walked home or to the Magic Box, but whatever her destination she always stopped here first. 

"I'm here," she said softly, startling Tara from her memories. 

The witch knelt beside the girl. "Th-hat's good."

Dawn shrugged. "Is it? I know we've been through this but … it should be me here. In the ground, I mean. This should be my grave."

"Oh, Dawn -- "

"I know, I know," she said sharply. "I've heard it all, Tara, but it doesn't change my feelings. It still should have been me. I know she was the Slayer and her job was to protect people and she wanted to protect me … "

As Dawn trailed off Tara's mind churned with thoughts and impulses. Should she share her theories with Dawn? Or would it make things worse? Like many things she had thought of recently, the young witch was loath to broach the subject. Willow and magic were one; while Tara was glad to have her mind back -- more ecstatic than anyone could ever possibly hope to know -- Willow's use of dark magic bothered her. Compounding the situation was the redhead's continual use of magic for the little things that could easily be done in very little time. At first it had made sense -- no one felt up to doing those things but they needed to be done, so magick. However, using magick was no longer needed but Willow continued to do so.

And then there was her beloved's new obsession -- how to resurrect the fallen Slayer. Tara was opposed to it on all levels, but the nagging 'what if?' doubt that Willow had voiced was beginning to chip away at her resistance. While she doubted the Goddess would allow Her Chosen to languish in a demon dimension, what if … ?

"Tara?"

She shook her head and brushed away those thoughts until she had the time and space to deal with them. "Dawn … I don't think it was just Slayer stuff," she said carefully. 

"Huh? What do you mean … do you know something … ?" Dawn asked, hope and suspicion warring for control.

"I think," Tara corrected. "All I have are theories, maybes … "

"What are they?"

"What did she tell you?"

Dawn blinked. "Huh? I mean, what … ?"

"What you told A-angel," she elaborated. "And Giles. What was it?"

"Oh," Dawn whispered. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because it's important … I *think* it's important."

Dawn took a deep breath and exhaled. "She said that she understood … she figured it out, that she was okay with it … that the hardest thing to do on earth was live … "

Tara nodded. "I think … Dawnie, I think if there had been a third choice she would have jumped on it, but it was either you or her. And I think she couldn't let you do it because she loved you too much."

"So?" Dawn cried, tears beginning to streak down her face. "She left me because she loved me?! Because that makes so much sense!"

"Dawn … " 

"What?" she asked through clenched teeth.

"It wasn't," Tara started. "I'm n-not sure how to s-say this, Dawn."

"Try."

A deep cleansing breath later and she was ready to try again. "Dawn, I don't think Buffy could've lived if she had had to bury you. She wasn't strong enough."

Dawn looked astonished.

"Not that she wasn't Slayer strong enough," she elaborated. "But she wasn't strong enough to live through another death or departure. Giles told me one night … "

"Drunk or sober?"

Tara frowned. "Neither. He'd had a couple of glasses of wine but he wasn't drunk by any s-stretch. He said that Buffy had laid down an ultimatum, I guess you could call it. That if a-anything happened to you that she would quit, stop, give it up. That you meant more to her."

"Oh," Dawn murmured, her voice small.

"Buffy wasn't whole," she said thoughtfully, finally voicing the feeling she'd had ever since her first meeting with the Slayer. "And she couldn't lose you without losing another big piece of herself, not and live. Exist, maybe. Your mom … "

"She held it in … but she always held it in. Mom, Riley, Angel," Dawn shook her head. "Even Dad, I guess. She was never one to emote on the big things … just the little ones."

Tara squeezed Dawn's hands. "I think Buffy needed to rest, Dawnie. She was too tired to live -- especially if it meant losing you, too."

Dawn's throat closed up with emotion as she thought about what Tara was saying. It made sense and it would be just like Buffy, too. Laughter burbled up in her belly and escaped her mouth along with cries of anguish as she sank into Tara's waiting arms. She continued to laugh and cry, her body shaking with the force of her emotions as Tara rocked her back and forth. 

"Oh, God, Tara … I miss her so much!"

From her place behind an old mausoleum Willow watched her lover comfort the sister of her departed best friend. Dawn's anguish ricocheted through the witch and she grabbed the stone wall for support as her own despair and doubts pounded her heart once more, breaking down carefully erected walls put in place to allow for day-to-day functioning. She had followed Tara in the hope that she could catch up with the other and have a heart to heart talk before they gathered at the magic shop. Hoped that her lover could bolster the burgeoning hope that maybe, just maybe, everything that happened with Glory was meant to happen.

That Buffy was at peace.

But as she watched Dawn collapse from exhaustion on top of her sister's grave all her fears and doubts solidified into a firm conclusion. Yes, she thought as she backed away from the scene and headed towards the shop with a new determination. She would find a way to rescue Buffy from whatever demon dimension in which she was trapped. She would do it.

Resolve Face.

***

June 19, 2001 -- Los Angeles

"Hey, English … what's with you and Cordelia?"

As Wesley looked up from his papers his glasses slipped down his nose, causing a bit of fumbling as he attempted to right them despite his startlement. The surprise on his face was echoed in his eyes and Gunn chuckled. "You still all caught up in those old papers? I figured there'd be some action by now."

"None as such," Wesley admitted. "Though I expect even the demons are a bit felled by this abominable heat. Or maybe … "

Gunn raised an eyebrow and leaned against the counter. "What, you think the Powers are givin' us a break cause Angel's gone?"

Wesley sighed. "Perhaps. It's a nice thought … even if it does mean less business."

"And a smaller paycheck," Gunn finished. "That what you and Cordy were arguing about last night?"

"Ah, no."

"Well? Come on, gimme a clue here."

The Englishman dropped his eyes to a piece of paper on the counter and Gunn tried in vain to read the words upside down. Ever since they'd returned from Pylea and Angel had heard the news that his ladylove was dead the Brit had been acting more than a bit subdued. Although he himself still had dreams -- nightmares, really -- about Alonna, he wasn't sure what to think about Wesley's reaction. Cordelia had known the dead woman longer and was holding up better than any of them … okay, so Fred was still hiding, but that was understandable considering everything she'd been through during the last five years. And she, like Gunn, hadn't known the Slayer. Man, the Slayer, that was another mind-blowing concept, he thought. 

Wesley sighed again and took off his glasses before pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "Cordelia and I had a … disagreement, if you will."

"Sounded like a fight to me."

"I rather suppose it did," he admitted. 

"What's up, bro? She bitchin' about us taking the Courdner case?''

Wesley gave a small laugh that sounded a trifle bitter even to his own ears. "No, although I'm sure she detests the idea of us taking on a divorce case even when she herself has supported such work in the past. Still, we must if we hope to stay solvent."

"So?"

"This," he said as he indicated the scrap of paper. "It's from a friend of Buffy's in Sunnydale, Tara, who I believe is Willow's girlfriend -- "

"Willow?" Gunn asked. "The redhead who -- "

"Yes, that was Willow," Wesley confirmed. "Tara called yesterday to invite us to a Requiem for Buffy. It's … they're holding it tomorrow, on the Summer Solstice."

The former Watcher caught the confused look on Gunn's face and hurried to explain. "A Requiem is a sort of memorial service held by practitioners of Wicca. I had not realized that Buffy subscribed to any religious beliefs and I must say I am surprised to learn that she was a part of what is, for the most part, a coven."

"A coven?" Gunn frowned. "Like those people a few months ago?"

"Yes and no. Both Willow and Tara are practicing witches, magick users, but to the best of my knowledge the others involved were simply there for other reasons. Though I shouldn't have been surprised if Buffy had shown some magickal aptitude … Slayers occasionally do," he admitted.

Gunn nodded slowly. "Okay … but I thought you guys went to the funeral? Why hold a memorial service now?"

"We did not attend the funeral," Wesley corrected softly as he looked away. "By the time we returned the funeral, such as it was, had been held and we … " his voice broke and he cleared his throat. "We simply paid our respects."

"Such as it was?" 

"They did not wish anyone to know of her death," he said simply. "For a variety of reasons, I imagine, not the least of which being what would happen on the Hellmouth if the demons discovered she was dead. So they buried her rather quickly -- by themselves -- in a remote part of Sunnydale's eldest and therefore most unused cemetery."

"I can see that," Gunn said slowly. "But how do they intend to make it work?"

Wesley chuckled, a bitter sound that raised the hairs on the back of Gunn's neck. "Apparently there's a Buffybot, I think they called it. A robot, more android, that looks and sounds like Buffy … Willow has programmed it to fight and perform the other necessary chores … "

Gunn's face narrowed in contemplation. "Okay, I can see that. Even the bit about the quick burial and the memorial or whatever. But what's that got to do with you and Cordy arguing?"

"Everything, I'm afraid."

"What?"

"Cordelia has changed a great deal," Wesley began, carefully choosing his words in case this conversation ever got back to its subject. "She's matured and grown and become a remarkable young woman who's enduring a tremendous burden as gracefully as possible. For all this, I admire her. However, she still carries a great deal of anger and resentment toward Buffy, some of it earned and some of it not. And while she was willing to pay her respects -- indeed, I'm sure she felt the loss even if she says little of it -- she feels no need to attend the Requiem.

"And she resents that I intend to do so," he finished.

"Why do you?" Gunn questioned. "I mean, you knew her the least of the three of you. Angel, I can understand that. But from what I've heard I'd think you'd see it Cordelia's way."

Wesley shook his head. 

"Why?"

"She was my Slayer, once," he said quietly. "It's as simple and complicated as that. Once taken up, the mantle of Watcher is almost impossible to relinquish … I cannot even imagine how Giles must feel. He was, after all, her Watcher before I arrived and after I left despite losing the Council's support."

Gunn cocked his head to the side. "But here you are."

"Yes, here I am. Fighting the good fight without the Council's support, true, but I'm still performing that which I swore to do," Wesley explained. "Only now instead of a Slayer I have Angel."

"So?"

"It's practically inexplicable, the bond between Slayer and Watcher. My ties to Buffy and Faith," he faltered for a moment as he remembered pain and blood wrapped up in a lithe body and long dark hair. "My tie to them may have been weak and flawed but it did -- does -- exist."

"And Cordy doesn't understand," Gunn realized. "So she gets angry and hurt, not just on Angel's behalf."

"Heard that bit, have you?" Wesley asked dryly.

Gunn grinned. "Oh, yeah. It's one of her favorite topics."

Wesley simply shook his head in commiseration. "No, she does not understand and though I've tried to explain … she does not quite comprehend why I must go. Angel, she would understand. Me? Not at all."

"So … ?"

"I'll not be here tomorrow," Wesley said as he closed his eyes and leaned back. "As for Cordelia … well … "

"I'll come by and keep an eye on Fred," Gunn offered. After a moment he frowned and reconsidered. "Make that an ear."

Wesley smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Charles. Thank you."

***

June 20, 2001 -- Outside Los Angeles

This place was really kinda dingy even if it did smell of antiseptic cleaners, she thought absently as she waited. Despite the new laws, the scent of stale cigarettes seemed to linger in the air and the tops of the walls were stained from years of the smoke clinging to the white surfaces. Why no one had painted over them she wasn't sure, but she doubted many of the people who came through here cared that much; after all, nobody was here for very long. Still, as an outward and public facade it could be neater, she decided. Then again, it *was* a prison.

What did she expect?

Not the curiosity on the face of the woman she had come to see. Cordelia chided herself for thinking she had been Faith's only visitor of late because she knew Angel had come before he left for his monastery in Tibet or India, whichever. However, the fact that the other Slayer seemed curious about her presence disturbed her. "Faith."

"Cordelia," she replied cautiously. "What's with the sudden visit?"

A well-groomed brow arched as she shrugged. "I thought, you know, it's time to come see you again."

Faith sat back in chair and stared at the other woman. She was a lighter shade of brunette these days, she noted, with even paler highlights and streaks no less. Unsure what to think -- is she changing the outside to reflect a changed woman or just cultivating a new look? -- Faith said nothing for the space of several heartbeats while she considered the various reasons for Cordelia's presence. Unable to decipher more than one contender she frowned; surely the former May Queen was better at the forgiving thing than she was, right? 

"Really?" Faith asked, a tiny smile playing along her lips. "I kinda thought you'd be in Sunnydale."

Cordelia started violently at Faith's words, unable to believe she'd heard them from the so-called Dark Slayer. "Why do you say that?"

Faith shrugged. "Wesley was here yesterday, that's why I was surprised to see you. Told me about the Requiem thingy that Red's girlfriend organized. Figured you'd be there, on your way there, whatever."

"Wesley was here?" Cordelia struggled to wrap her mind around that little tidbit. For so long he had not only avoided visiting Faith but any mention of the woman, his former charge, who had tortured him a year before. The knowledge that he had finally broken that habit by stepping into the lion's den, so to speak, nearly blew her mind. And the thought that it happened now reignited the spark of anger she had thought banked. 

"You sound surprised."

Cordelia narrowed her eyes at the tone in the other woman's voice -- amusement coupled with faint mockery. "I am," she replied smoothly. "He's avoided any mention of you for so long that I have to admit to being surprised."

"You shouldn't be," Faith drawled.

"And why not?" Cordelia snapped.

Faith sat up straight and locked eyes with her visitor through the bulletproof glass. "Because," she stated. "I'm a Slayer. He's a Watcher. Better yet, he was my Watcher."

Cordelia snorted. "Like you had a lot of respect there."

"True," she agreed. "I didn't. But it doesn't change the facts. And the fact is that there is a bond, I guess you could say, between a Slayer and her Watcher. My strongest was with my first Watcher, Emmaline Fields, but there was one with Giles too. And eventually with Wes though I didn't recognize it at the time; it's the weakest of the three, but it was there. *Is* there, actually. Might even be stronger now."

"So?" Cordelia asked tightly.

Faith leaned closer to the glass separating the two. "So, if *I've* got a bond with him, so did Buffy. And hers was a bit stronger -- not by much, but enough."

Anger boiled closer to the surface as brown eyes flashed a warning. "Again. So?"

"Let's get it out, CC," Faith said fixedly. "You're here because Wesley went to Sunnydale. Why?"

"That's just it!" she exclaimed. "Why is he there? Buffy was nothing but nasty and bitchy to him even after he started working here in LA. Why does he care?"

"And you haven't been nasty and bitchy?" Faith asked rhetorically. 

"What?"

"You've been nasty and bitchy, you know. But you've been more than that, too. Do you really think the nasty and bitchy is all people would remember if you were dead?"

Cordelia stared.

"Lemme tell you a few things," Faith started. "First thing -- Wes went to Sunnydale because Buffy was, for a short time, his Slayer. Period. It's not something easily understood so I'm not even gonna try. Just accept it."

"Okay, Wise One," Cordelia said sarcastically. "What else?"

"Second thing," she continued. "You're wicked angry, CC. Seems to me that you're angry because of things that happened to people you care about now. At the time that kinda support was fine, but they're obviously past it or dealing."

"And?" 

"Get over it," Faith said bluntly. "They're both grown men fully capable of making their own choices and coping with their own fuck ups, so they don't need you to carry all that righteous indignation for them. If you're angry, be angry for yourself. You got personal issues with B, fine, but leave Angel and Wes out of it. Besides, I'm not the only one looking for a bit of redemption, am I?"

Cordelia shifted in her seat and tried to look unfazed. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, just this," Faith stared intently at the other brunette. "I think you came here to bitch about how B hurt Angel and Wesley and how you can't understand why they care at all. I think you expected me to commiserate or whatever. Once upon a time I would have, but not now."

Overcome with curiosity now that Faith had deduced her original intent, Cordelia allowed herself to show a bit of interest. "What changed?"

Faith tipped her head to the side in consideration. Should she tell the girl everything? Yes, she finally decided; Cordelia would have to hear it all. "Me and B, we came to an understanding a few months ago when she came to see me. She knew the shit was gonna hit the fan so she decided to clear the air. Yeah, she came of her own free will, don't look so shocked."

Cordelia closed her mouth with an audible snap.

"Anyway, even if she hadn't I don't think I'd've participated in a bitch fest with you."

"Why?" Cordelia asked before she could stop herself.

Faith's eyes darkened and began to water. Cordelia watched in surprised fascination as the dark haired Slayer took a shaky breath as she wiped at her eyes, gasping at the sheer pain she saw in those depths when they met hers once more. 

"Slayers have a bond too," she said quietly, her voice fraught with barely repressed anguish. "Me and B … we shared a lot. Might've shared more, someday. Maybe not. But even if I hadn't talked to her I wouldn't bitch about her now, because I felt it when she died."

Cordelia stared in shock, her mind working furiously to process this revelation.

"No, not just felt," Faith absently corrected herself. "I shared her death with her, those last few moments of her life … I know what she knew, felt what she felt … "

Faith locked eyes with Cordelia. "Doesn't get more intimate, CC, than sharing death. You think about that."

Cordelia watched in shocked silence as Faith hung up her phone and walked over to alert the waiting guard, her eyes following the Slayer until she was out of sight. Only then did the import of what she had heard manage to sink in.

She sat as still as stone as the receiver slipped from her hand.

***

June 21, 2001 -- Sunnydale

In a hurry, Dawn sprinted up the stairs in search of a missing witch. Willow had been busy and distracted over breakfast and murmured vaguely about errands and such, leading Tara to wonder if her lover had found something concrete or promising with her shiny new obsession. However, Dawn knew nothing of this; indeed, she had been so buried in her own motley mass of emotions that even if her two keepers had been fighting she wouldn't have noticed. 

She reached the landing and burst into what she still thought of as her mother's room only to find it empty, the bed made and clothes put away. A frown crossed her face as she whirled around, unsure now where to look for Willow when she spotted an envelope with Tara's name propped on the dresser. Curiosity strummed through her blood so she picked it up and jogged back down the stairs, grabbing her jacket before she headed back to the clearing where the others were waiting. 

Tara and Anya were finishing the preparations while Xander and Giles looked on, and Tara breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Dawn's head crest the top of the hill as the sun sank below the horizon. Her relief was quickly tarnished when she realized the girl was alone and, for the first time in weeks, she allowed herself to feel anger towards her lover. Her anger, however, faded as she read the words Willow had penned. 

'Tara,

'I know you'll be mad, but I can't come tonight. My parents have never been the most attentive people -- Goddess knows they've ignored me for years -- but I guess the news about Joyce finally sunk in. Mom called yesterday evening while you were out and wanted to talk … she sounded like she was all there, if you get my drift. Completely present while we talked about why I moved in with Dawn (and the Buffybot, but of course she thinks what everyone else thinks … ) and some other stuff. Anyway, she and Dad want to have dinner with me tonight and I couldn't say no. They're making real attempts, Tara, and I won't lie and say I dislike them for it. Maybe it'll last, probably not, but it's real enough right now.

'And right now I need this. Please understand.

'I love you.

'Willow.'

A tear slid down Tara's face as she squeezed the crumpled note. It's okay, Willow, she promised her lover silently. Take all the time you need … I'm sure Buffy would want you to.

"Is everything all right, Tara?"

The concern in Giles' tired voice snapped the witch back into the present and she smiled sadly at the Watcher. "Yeah," she sighed. "Willow's not coming … her parents … she says they're really trying this time … she thinks maybe Joyce's death might have … "

Giles nodded as she trailed off. "Perhaps some good will come of it if … "

Tara met his eyes. "If," she agreed.

As the two contemplated the eventual heartbreak Willow was courting both silently agreed that they would say nothing until it was necessary. They exchanged a glance with Xander who merely shrugged, unable to offer any helpful advice on the situation. With a slight sigh they took seats in a loose circle as they awaited the arrival of whomever else would be attending. 

Spike was the next to arrive and no one said anything as the platinum blond vampire dropped to the ground between Tara and Dawn, the latter reaching out and squeezing his hand. On her other side was Giles, whose right hand found her left and gave it a comforting pat.

Less than ten minutes had passed as they gazed into the flickering flames of the fire -- although most would have agreed it felt longer -- when Wesley arrived, quietly taking a seat between Tara and Xander. His eyes met Giles' in shared sympathy and understanding as the moments trailed past, the shortest night dragging on much as had the day. Neither man broke contact until a slight rustling alerted them to another presence and Wesley looked up, surprised but pleased to see Cordelia hesitating at the outer boundaries of the circle.

Cordelia still wasn't completely sure what had prompted her to return to her hometown and the Requiem being held. It may have been the shock of Faith's revelation or her own guilty conscience, but either way she had found her way to the ceremony and knew there was no turning back. She sank to her knees between Xander and Anya and tried not to think of the irony. 

Tara cleared her throat and looked to Dawn, who began the simple circle casting by carefully lighting a long slender bundle of twigs and hand rolled incense by sticking them in the fire. "Welcome our minds to your essence, Air, and grant us your dominion and protection." 

Anya did the same, murmuring, "Welcome our hearts to your essence, Fire, and grant us your dominion and protection."

Another bundle caught flame as Xander, in Willow's stead, steadily repeated the words Tara had taught him. "Welcome our lives to your essence, Water, and grant us your dominion and protection." 

Tara did as the three before her and watched as the bundle caught fire and scented the open air with a mixture of sage, saffron and myrrh. "Welcome our bodies to your essence, Earth, and grant us your dominion and protection." Once the bottom of the flaming bundle was buried in the ground, she looked up and continued by saying, "The circle is cast. We are between the worlds, beyond the bounds of time, where night and day, birth and death, joy and sorrow, meet as one. With the Sun God at the height of his power and majesty, the waxing of the year is accomplished and the reign of the Oak King is ended. With the Sun God at the height of his splendor the waning of the year begins, and the Holly King must slay his brother the Oak King and rule over the land until the depth of winter, when his brother shall be born again."

"During most years we would celebrate Midsummer on this night," Dawn started, her voice more than a little shaky. "But tonight we call for a Requiem, and so we meet in both sadness and … j-joy. We are sad because a chapter has closed … b-but we are joyful because, by the closing, a new ch-chapter may begin."

"We meet to mark the passing of our beloved sister, Buffy, for whom this incarnation is ended," Tara said softly but clearly. And as she did so, Xander smiled as he remembered days when he, Willow and Buffy would hang and patrol and then crash and watch a marathon of monster movies. For so long he had deluded himself into thinking their relationship was more than friendship -- and he had been right. Just not the way he'd once thought. And tonight he missed his sister and hero far more than he had since that horrible night but he found, to his surprise, a smile lingering on his lips as he glimpsed days gone by.

"We meet to commend her to the care of blessing of the Goddess and the God, that she may rest free from illusion or regret … " Tara's words struck Giles in the heart as she voiced his second fondest wish -- that his wonderful Slayer, his beloved daughter had somehow attained the peace she had so long been denied. And there amidst the others who had cared for her he felt it become his fondest wish as the yearnings to have her with him eased just a touch. By no means gone, that desire was sublimated in favor of wishing the best for the one who had taught him how to love again.

"Until the time shall come for her rebirth to this world … " Tara felt a shudder pass through her as she uttered these words and she prayed that the foreboding feeling was just that, a feeling. She prayed Willow would let it go … 

"And knowing that this shall be so, we know, too, that the sadness is nothing and the joy is all … " Bugger that, Spike thought. There's nothing joyous about her death even if she was a Slayer. It was too soon … but he would keep the promise he'd made until his final death or the end of the world. Whichever came first.

"We call to thee, Ama, dark sterile Mother … we commend to thee Buffy, our sister … admit her to the peace of the Summerlands, which stand between life and life … " Let there be another life, Anya thought morosely. Let Buffy live again one day once she's ready and don't let her be trapped in some demon dimension.

"Or ever the silver cord be loosed, or the golden bowl be broken, or the pitcher be broken at the fountain, or the wheel broken at the cistern … then shall the dust return to the earth as it was and the spirit shall return to the Goddess who gave it … " Wesley shut his eyes and said his own small prayers as he thought about the petite blonde he'd once considered far too contrary. She was simply herself, no more, except when those around her needed more and then she felt the burdens more heavily. Why did he not see then? Or were time and distance the true healers? Whatever the reason he felt the lack of her now and wished her the peace she so richly earned.

"We call to thee, Aima, bright fertile Mother, thou who art the womb of rebirth, from whom all manifested life proceeds … " A tear slid down Cordelia's check before she realized she was crying and the Seer felt the magnitude of her loss for the first time. Yes, her loss as well. A loss, she acknowledged painfully as a scream caught in her throat, that might have been prevented had she told Angel *everything* she had seen while under Vocah's spell … 

"We commend to thee Buffy, our sister … take her, guide her, guard her and bring her in the fullness of time to a new birth and a new life … " In the depths of the magic shop books floated down from their shelves as a redheaded witch searched doggedly for a way to resurrect her fallen friend. It was not a natural death, she thought as she ran her finger down a page. And if she's trapped in some hell

world … Willow shuddered at the thought and skimmed over the page, her finger suddenly stopping as the notation caught her eyes. The Urn of Osiris … 

"And grant that in that new life she may be loved again, as we her brothers and sisters have loved her."

Deep in a tangled jungle Riley looked up at the moon as a stray breeze ruffled his hair and broke his concentration. A woman nearby gave a shout and his attention was realigned but for a moment, for just second, he could have sworn …

In a club a musician fumbled a perfect D chord as the werewolf known as Oz heard a low, mournful howl of grief in his mind's ear. The pack grieved for their fallen leader and he suddenly shivered as he felt the urge to howl at the moon.

As darkness fell and cast shadows through iron bars Faith allowed tears to fall not for her sister but for herself, for now she was truly alone.

Somewhere in Asia a vampire cried tears of blood as the wind whispered and carried on its wings the grief and joy of her mourners, the power that had bound her soul to his seeking him out in the farthest reaches of the globe.

And deep within the womb of the earth Buffy Summers found peace.

END


End file.
